RAINBOW  SPRINGS 


•Hfl 


m 


FRANCES-MARIAN-  MITCHELL 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 


UNIT.  OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


- 


"SEE,  HE  is  ENCHANTED,  RODNEY!" — Page  229. 


JOAN 

OF 

RAINBOW   SPRINGS 


BY 


FRANCES   MARIAN   MITCHELL 


ILLUSTRATED  BT  F.  VAUX  WILSON 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,    LEE    &    SHEPARD    CO. 


Published,  August,  1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY  LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  Co. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 


•Rorwoos    press 

BERWICK  &  SMITH  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass. 

U.S.A. 


JO    MY  MOTHER 
IN  MEMORY  OF  MY  BROTHER 


2131658 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"SEE,  HE  is  ENCHANTED,  RODNEY ! "  (page 229)  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"YOU  ARE  A   SWEET   SPIRIT   COME  TO   RAINBOW   SPRINGS 

TO   BRING   PEACE   TO   THE   HEARTS   OF   MANY"        .  .        82 

SOME    DAY    HE    WOULD    AWAKEN    THE    WOMAN-LOVE    THAT 

LAY   HIDDEN   UNDER  THE   CHILD-LOVE  .  .  .      324 

THE    STRAINS    OF    THE    VIOLIN    FLOATED    OUT    OVER    THE 

DESERT,    FILLED   WITH   LOVE  AND  LONGING  .  .      468 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW 
SPRINGS 

CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  Christmas  Eve.    The  Snow  King  was 
abroad  that  night  with  a  great,  wild  wind. 

As  the  night  grew  old,  the  wind  gradually 
strengthened  to  a  gale  and  turned  the  steady  down- 
fall of  white  snowflakes  into  a  lashing  scourge.  It 
whipped  the  soft  mantle  of  white  from  the  earth  and 
sent  it  swirling  through  the  frigid  air  as  if  it  re- 
gretted the  moments  spent  in  gentle  drifting. 
Shrieking  and  howling,  it  rattled  windows  and  tore 
at  the  roofs  of  the  sedate  white  houses  that  flanked 
the  main  streets  of  the  little  town  of  Orion,  Ver- 
mont, even  as  it  rattled  windows  and  tore  at  the 
roofs  of  other  houses  in  many  other  towns,  for  the 
wind  was  on  mischief  bent  that  night. 

It  swept  up  the  tracks  of  the  one  car  line  Orion 
boasted,  and  took  a  fiendish  joy  in  burying  the  cold 
rails  under  an  icy  shroud  of  white. 


12         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Out  toward  the  end  of  the  car  line  a  square  white 
house  stands  at  a  dignified  distance  back  from  the 
street.  From  the  sidewalk  to  the  door  runs  a  well- 
beaten  path  bounded  on  each  side  by  great  silver 
maple  trees,  their  gaunt  limbs  now  ice-bound  and 
unsuggestive  of  the  sap  of  spring  hidden  in  their 
hearts. 

With  a  shrilly  whistled  song  of  rage  the  blizzard 
caught  the  square  white  house  in  its  icy  grasp  and 
shook  it  until  it  quivered  and  creaked.  With  a 
howl  of  joy  it  sent  a  sparkling  drift  of  snow  into  the 
long  hall,  for  the  outer  door  stood  slightly  ajar.  So 
had  it  stood  every  Christmas  Eve  for  sixty  years, 
because  on  that  storm-scourged  Christmas  Eve  so 
many  years  before,  an  old  gentleman  and  a  beau- 
tiful maiden,  who  had  been  lost  in  the  snow,  had 
found  their  way  to  the  square  white  house,  through 
the  sudden  opening  of  the  outer  door  by  one  within 
who  had  heard  their  cry  for  help  during  a  mo- 
mentary lull  in  the  storm. 

The  old  man  had  passed  on  the  next  day  to  the 
great  beyond,  but  the  beautiful  maiden  had  re- 
mained and  was  the  revered  grandmother  of  the 
present  Rodney  White,  who,  with  a  maiden  aunt, 
lived  in  the  house  whose  inmates  one  by  one  had 
been  laid  to  rest  in  the  churchyard  until  only  these 
two  remained.  The  aunt  was  as  cold  and  gaunt 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         13 

as  the  ice-bound  maples  that  flanked  the  path  from 
the  street  to  the  door.  If  the  sap  of  the  spring  was 
in  her  heart,  it  had  never  been  revealed  to  the 
motherless  boy  she  had  raised,  not  for  love  of  the 
boy,  but  because  her  stern  New  England  conscience 
demanded  it. 

In  the  hush  that  followed  the  passing  of  the  storm 
the  strains  of  a  violin  floated  out  through  the  open 
door. 

Rodney  White  was  playing  Vieuxtemps'  "  Rev- 
erie," and  the  exquisite  harmony  of  it  seemed  to 
come  from  the  inmost  soul  of  the  violin  vibrant 
with  longing,  a-quiver  with  prayer  and  pain.  The 
rich,  full  chords  of  it  trembled  far  out  into  the 
night  and  across  the  snow-buried  car  tracks  until 
they  reached  the  consciousness  of  a  small  storm- 
scourged  mite  of  humanity. 

In  some  subtile,  mysterious  manner  the  violin 
seemed  to  call  direct  to  the  heart  of  the  little  way- 
farer and  set  her  free  from  bondage — seemed  to 
calm  the  storm  that  had  raged  within  her  while  she 
battled  against  the  fury  of  the  wind  and  snow.  It 
gave  her  a  sense  of  protection  she  had  never  known 
before  in  her  eleven  years  of  unprotected,  unchild- 
like  life.  She  ceased  to  feel  the  stinging  cold  of  the 
bitter  night. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  motionless,  her  lithe  fig- 


14        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ure  erect,  her  head  slightly  bent  the  better  to  hear 
the  exquisite  melody;  then  with  a  sharp  intake  of 
breath  she  nodded  her  head  slightly,  as  one  who 
catches  a  distant  measure,  and  with  a  sob  of  joy 
darted  toward  the  square  white  house.  She  had 
reached  the  path  between  the  maples  before  the 
snow  began  to  fall  again  in  large  loose  flakes  that 
quickly  filled  her  footprints. 

An  old  shawl  wrapped  around  her  head  caught 
upon  a  low  limb  of  a  maple  tree,  and  when  she  had 
pulled  herself  free  she  noticed  that  the  outer  door 
of  the  house  stood  slightly  ajar  and  the  snow  was 
drifting  in. 

She  stumbled  up  the  steps  and  across  the  ridge 
of  snow  in  the  doorway.  Once  in  the  hall  she  hesi- 
tated an  instant  and  caught  her  breath  sharply  be- 
fore she  slipped  into  the  room  whence  came  the 
voice  of  the  violin. 

Oh,  the  unutterable  joy  of  it  after  the  hour  out 
in  the  storm,  this  being  again  within  sheltering 
walls !  How  grateful  the  subtile  sense  of  protection 
given  by  the  crackling  blaze  of  the  open  fire  send- 
ing its  merry,  dancing  light  and  warmth  into  every 
corner  of  the  room — into  the  very  marrow  of  her 
chilled  bones!  Oh,  the  ecstasy  of  the  peace  that 
enveloped  her — the  fragrance  of  the  pine  knots  on 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         15 

their  leaping  bed  of  fire — the  thrill  of  joy  brought 
by  the  nearness  of  a  human  being  and  the  divine 
music  that  had  called  to  her  out  there  in  the 
night ! 

Rodney  White,  nervously  pacing  the  room  with 
the  soft  light  from  the  dancing  fire  outlining  his 
boyish  face  with  its  square  chin,  looked  pale  and 
careworn.  His  deep  gray  eyes  stared  unseeingly 
over  the  responsive  strings  of  the  violin,  and  the 
dark  circles  around  them  spoke  eloquently  of  the 
sleepless  nights  that  had  been  his.  The  tense  set 
of  his  firm  mouth  told  of  the  battle  being  waged 
between  body  and  soul. 

Once  he  ceased  playing  for  an  instant,  and  the 
little  listener  in  front  of  the  fire  caught  her  breath 
with  a  sense  of  fear — he  looked  so  stern  and  somber 
— when  a  deep,  harsh  cough  racked  his  body,  but 
again  his  long  nervous  fingers  caressed  the  strings 
and  he  began  to  improvise,  weaving  together 
themes  of  Christmas  carols  with  a  prayer  of  in- 
finite longing  throbbing  through  them,  with  an 
undercurrent  of  renunciation  that  had  not  been 
manifest  in  the  "  Reverie." 

The  little  listener  knew  nothing  of  the  meaning 
of  the  music  nor  the  idea  it  interpreted,  yet  the 
emotions  of  it  seized  upon  her,  giving  her  the  feeling 


16         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

that  something  sweet  and  inexplainable  had  found 
her  and  was  holding  her  in  a  close  embrace  as  a 
mother  holds  her  child. 

Her  breath  came  quick  and  fast  and  when  the 
player,  with  a  sigh  that  was  almost  a  sob,  began 
to  play  Gounod's  "  Ave  Maria,"  it  seemed  as 
though  she  must  cry  out  because  of  the  strange 
mingling  of  joy  and  pain  that  enthralled  her — be- 
cause of  the  nearness  of  the  spirit  that  enfolded  her 
in  its  gentle  yet  sorrowing  embrace — because  of 
the  presence  of  the  spirit  which  believes  all  things, 
suffers  all  things,  and  triumphs  at  last  through  all 
things. 

Then  clear  and  surpassingly  sweet  came  a  splen- 
did chord  of  victory.  A  superb  chord  that  buried 
deep  all  individual  grief — a  chord  that  rang  with 
a  thrill  of  hope;  and  the  notes  that  followed  sang 
with  a  sweet  faith  in  the  infinite  and  the  ultimate 
triumph  of  the  infinite  over  the  finite  world  of  pain. 
All  the  beauty  of  the  world  was  a  part  of  that 
matchless  melody  of  divine  harmony  and,  on  and 
on  and  through  it  all,  rang  a  throbbing  current  of 
individual  triumph  until  with  the  last  sweet  note 
the  "  peace  that  passeth  understanding  "  pervaded 
the  room  where  infinite  love  had  conquered  finite 
pain. 

Still  with  that  rapt  look  on  his  face,   Rodney 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         17 

White  walked  across  the  room  to  the  violin  case 
that  lay  open  on  the  corner  of  the  square  piano. 

Reverently  and  tenderly  he  wrapped  the  violin 
in  a  silk  scarf  and  laid  it  in  its  case  and  softly 
snapped  the  cover  down. 

In  some  strange  way  the  watcher  felt  that  she 
was  in  some  Holy  of  Holies,  that  she  was  witness- 
ing some  sacred  rite,  and  a  sob  of  pain  and  regret 
burst  from  her. 

Rodney  White  heard  the  sob  and,  turning  at  the 
sound,  found  an  odd  little  figure  crouched  before 
the  fire. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  kindly.  "  Where  did  you  come 
from,  little  girl,  and  who  are  you?  I  hoped  some 
one  would  come  through  my  open  door  to-night," 
he  added,  advancing  toward  her  with  a  welcoming 
smile. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  not  cross  because  I  came  in. 
I — I  ran  away  from  Mrs.  Pepper's  to-night — and 
— and  my  name  is  Joan  Worthington,"  came  the 
answer  in  an  unsteady  voice,  as  the  child  sprang 
to  her  feet. 

"  Whew !  All  this  way  through  the  snow,  little 
girl.  Why,  it's  a  regular  blizzard  out  to-night,  and 
it's  a  good  mile  from  here  to  the  Pepper  place.  I 
don't  blame  you  for  running  away  from  her, 
though,"  he  added,  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  She's 


i8        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

a  vixen  if  ever  there  was  one.  But  why  did  you 
run  away  on  a  night  like  this  ?  " 

"  Why !  "  There  was  nothing  unsteady  now  in 
the  voice  of  the  pathetic  little  figure  in  her  very 
short,  very  ugly  dress  of  murky  brown  flannel,  with 
an  old  black  shawl  wrapped  around  her  head.  Be- 
neath the  shawl,  hanging  down  her  back,  was  a  thick 
braid  of  gold-brown  hair.  Her  face  was  pinched 
and  colorless  but  for  the  dark,  arched  brows  and 
the  blue  eyes  flashing  fire  between  long  heavy 
lashes. 

Rodney  White,  at  that  moment,  was  conscious 
only  of  the  flashing  eyes.  The  thin  white  face,  and 
the  wistful  mouth  with  its  pinched  corners,  he  no- 
ticed later  when  the  fire  had  died  out  of  the  great 
dark  eyes. 

"  Why ! "  came  the  voice  again,  and  this  time 
there  was  a  note  of  pain  in  it.  For  a  moment  the 
child  could  not  speak  for  the  sob  that  she  bravely 
choked  back. 

"  Go  on,"  Rodney  prompted,  gently. 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  on,"  she  flashed,  with  a  look  of  faith 
in  her  direct,  candid  eyes.  "  I  don't  believe  you 
could  be  cruel  and  play  that  ^s  you  do."  She 
nodded  toward  the  violin. 

Rodney's  somber  face  brightened  with  a  smile  of 
peculiar  sweetness. 


19 

"  Go  on,  little  snow  girl,"  he  urged. 

"  Mrs.  Pepper  called  me  a  thief."  The  low  voice 
was  tragic.  "  She  had  a  five-dollar  gold  piece.  Jim 
took  it,"  she  panted.  "  I  saw  him,  but  Mrs.  Pepper 
accused  me.  Oh !  Oh !  she  accused  me,"  she  wailed. 

Suddenly  the  strange  little  being  ceased  sobbing 
and  drew  her  lithe  form  erect.  "  I  am  not  a  thief," 
she  said,  proudly,  with  her  well-poised  head  tilted 
back. 

She  met  Rodney's  searching  look  with  a  direct, 
unflinching  gaze.  On  her  face  was  the  light  of 
truth  and  the  look  in  her  eyes  was  not  the  look  of 
a  thief. 

"  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Pepper  to-morrow,"  Rodney 
said,  quietly,  his  lips  firm  set.  "  I  know  you  are 
not  a  thief,"  he  added,  in  answer  to  the  question  in 
the  dark,  tragic  eyes. 

With  a  cry  of  joy  she  flung  herself  down  on  her 
knees  at  his  feet,  clasped  her  hands  about  his  knees, 
and  bent  her  head  on  them. 

"  O  God  in  Heaven,  I  thank  you  for  his  faith 
in  me,"  she  cried,  with  a  ringing  note  of  joy  in 
her  voice. 

In  spite  of  himself,  Rodney  smiled  as  he  gently 
raised  her  to  her  feet. 

"  Of  course  I  believe  you,"  he  said,  softly,  "  and 
to-morrow  we  shall  make  Mrs.  Pepper  acknowl- 


20         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

edge  her  wrong.  She  knows  me  and  will  not  trifle 
with  me  when  I  go  with  you  to  see  her." 

"  And  you'll  go  there  with  me  ?  "  Incredulity 
struggled  with  joy  in  the  eager  voice. 

"  Yes,"  Rodney  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  And  you  are  going  to  let  me  stay  here  to- 
night?" 

"  Of  course.  Didn't  I  leave  the  outer  door  open 
with  a  prayer  that  if  any  one  was  out  in  the  storm 
he  would  enter  the  open  door.  And  you  came,  little 
snow  girl,  and  you  shall  stay  until  your  people  come 
for  you;  but  why  were  you  at  Mrs.  Pepper's,  if  I 
may  ask  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  people,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  dull, 
hopeless  voice  from  which  all  the  light  and  life  had 
gone. 

For  a  moment  Rodney  thought  she  was  about  to 
cry  again,  but  the  thin  shoulders  squared  themselves 
and  the  flicker  of  a  smile  played  about  the  pale  lips. 

"  I  am  not  often  so  weak-jointed,"  with  an  apolo- 
getic air.  "  I'm  generally  glad  just  to  be  alive.  It's 
such  an  interesting  world  to  live  in,  and  the  thought 
of  the  good  things  that  might  happen  makes  being 
an  orphan  not  half  bad  at  times.  Of  course  a 
woman  like  Mrs.  Pepper  is  bound  to  be  trying  on 
any  one,  but  it  was  lots  better  there  than  it  was  at 
lots  of  places  until  this  trouble  came  up  that  makes 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        21 

it  impossible  for  me  to  live  there  any  longer  even 
if  she  should  acknowledge  her  wrong.  I  could 
never,  never,  live  in  the  house  with  any  one  who 
had  called  me  a  thief !  Never !  Never !  " 

And  Rodney  White,  looking  into  the  clear,  honest 
depths  of  her  eyes,  knew  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  such  a  child  to  forget  such  a  wrong. 

"  An  asylum  is  awful,"  she  went  on,  with  a  bitter 
little  smile.  "If  you'd  ever  been  an  orphan  in  an 
asylum  you'd  understand  how  the  very  thought  of 
going  back  to  it  is  most  harrowing.  The  asylum  is 
so  monotonous — but  then  life  hasn't  been  all 
monotony  to  me.  I've  been  handed  about  on  trial 
so  many  times,  but  every  time  I'd  begin  to  think  I 
was  going  to  be  adopted  something  would  happen 
and  back  I'd  go  to  the  asylum.  Once  an  old  maid 
— she  was  a  Christian  Scientist  and  taught  me  sev- 
eral things  that  make  life  more  bearable — kept  me 
for  over  six  months  and  had  fully  decided  to  adopt 
me,  but  when  she  was  about  ready  a  man  came 
along  and  spoiled  it  all.  She  took  the  man,  and 
back  to  the  asylum  went  little  Joan  with  a  parting 
injunction  to  remember  '  God  is  Love  and  an  ex- 
pression of  Love  ' — meaning  I  was  an  expression 
of  Love — '  could  not  be  unhappy.' ' 

"  Did  you  ever  go  to  school  ?  "  Rodney  asked, 
hiding  his  smiling  lips  with  his  hand. 


22         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Not  a  great  deal.  I  went  most  of  the  time  I 
stayed  with  Miss  Warren,  the  old  maid,  I  just  told 
you  about.  She  was  good  to  me  in  spite  of  her 
queerness,"  she  added,  reflectively.  "  And  of 
course  I  went  some  while  I  was  doing  spasms  in  the 
asylum — and  I  love  to  read  books,  especially  if  they 
give  you  a  crinkly  feeling  up  and  down  your  back. 
I  haven't  read  very  extensively.  Do  you  love  to 
read?" 

Rodney  smiled  an  affirmative  at  the  child.  The 
old  shawl  had  fallen  back  from  the  thin  face  now 
vivid  with  animation. 

"  Sit  there  in  that  chair  facing  me  and  we'll  talk 
it  all  out,"  he  suggested,  indicating  the  great  arm- 
chair on  the  other  side  of  the  hearth. 

The  child  sank  into  the  chair  with  a  luxurious 
sigh. 

"  My !  this  is  nice.  I  wonder  if  it's  much  nicer 
in  heaven.  I  never  dreamed  I'd  come  to  this  when 
I  left  Mrs.  Pepper's.  I  was  madder  than  a  wild- 
cat then  and  I  just  raged  and  raged  and  tramped 
on  and  on  until  I  heard  your  music.  Oh,  how  mad 
I  was !  "  And  at  the  thought  of  the  indignity  she 
had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Pepper — a  steely 
flash  came  into  her  eyes  and  a  flare  of  anger  set 
its  signals  at  the  corners  of  her  lips  and  nostrils. 

With  his  eyes  on  the  pinched  little  face,  lighted 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        23 

by  the  dark  blue  eyes  with  glints  of  gold  in  the 
iris,  Rodney  White  compared  the  life  of  the  child 
with  his  own  life,  and  a  shamed  feeling  swept  over 
him  because  he  had  not  met  defeat  in  his  life-work 
more  bravely. 

"  I  am  an  orphan,  too,"  he  said  at  last,  very 
gently,  "  but  I've  never  lived  in  an  asylum  nor  been 
handed  around." 

"  Of  course  not,"  Joan  broke  in  eagerly.  "  Any 
one  with  half  an  eye  could  see  you'd  never  lived 
in  an  asylum — you've  been  an  orphan  with  a  home. 
I'm  the  homeless  kind,  and  that  makes  a  vast  differ- 
ence between  us.  I  used  to  be  very  rebellious  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  I  read  my  Bible  diligently, 
but  ever  since  I  lived  with  Miss  Warren  I've  felt 
different.  Isn't  there  lots  of  consolation  in  that 
verse  about  Jesus  that  reads :  '  Foxes  have  holes  and 
the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests;  but  the  Son  of  Man 
has  not  where  to  lay  his  head '  ?  I  never  failed  to 
gain  comfort  from  that  until  to-night,  and  only  that 
— only  that,"  she  repeated  reverently,  "  could  have 
reached  through  the  howling  wilderness  of  woe  in 
my  heart  to-night." 

Rodney's  eyes  followed  hers  to  the  violin. 

"  Poor  little  kid !  "  he  murmured,  gently.  And 
then  silence  came.  A  silence  of  understanding  be- 
tween these  two  widely  different  specimens  of  hu- 


24         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

manity  drawn  together  by  the  tie  of  the  motherless 
and  fatherless. 

Minutes  passed. 

Rodney  gazed  vacantly  at  the  fire.  Again  he 
heard  his  friend  the  noted  physician  say,  "  Your 
only  chance  is  to  go  to  California.  You  must  live 
out  of  doors — I  know  the  very  place  for  you — an 
oasis  in  the  heart  of  the  Colorado  Desert — a  place 
where  many  brave  men  have  fought  the  great  white 
plague,  where  some  have  conquered  and  some  have 
died,  but  died  righting — remember  that,  Rodney.  I 
do  not  say  even  Rainbow  Springs  will  cure  you.  It 
depends  largely  on  yourself.  Take  my  advice  and 
it  will  at  least  prolong  your  life.  God  grant  that 
you  may  get  well.  But  you  will  at  least  have  fought 
the  fight,  whatever  the  outcome.  The  violin  you 
must  lay  away  for  at  least  three  years — perhaps 
longer.  You  must,  if  you  can,  forget  the  triumph 
that  was  to  have  been  yours  on  your  contem- 
plated tour.  Tell  your  manager  that  life  is  bet- 
ter than  fame.  Had  you  followed  my  advice  when 
you  came  back  from  Europe  six  months  ago  you 
would  have  been  much  better  now.  But  fight,  man, 
fight,  and  think  victory.  I  want  you  to  realize  your 
danger  but  never  measure  your  own  grave,  Rodney. 
Leave  that  for  some  one  else  and  perhaps  there  will 
be  no  measuring  done." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        25 

Rodney  forgot  the  little  girl  in  the  great  arm- 
chair— forgot  everything  but  the  giving  up  of  his 
beloved  violin.  He  lived  again  his  agony  of  suffer- 
ing as  he  played  for  the  last  time  for  months,  per- 
haps forever,  his  beloved  Amati,  the  delicate,  re- 
sponsive instrument  he  loved  with  all  the  soul  of  a 
man  nearly  thirty  whose  heart  has  never  been 
stirred  by  love  for  a  woman. 

Peace  had  come  to  him  in  the  last  measures  of 
the  "  Ave  Maria  " — a  strange,  enveloping  peace. 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  the  child  who  had  come 
in  as  he  played — the  child  who  had  answered  the 
voice  of  the  violin  calling,  calling,  calling  out  into 
the  night. 

With  the  thought  of  her  came  recollection  of  the 
significance  of  the  open  door. 

Slowly — solemnly  came  the  voice  of  the  clock  on 
the  mantel  in  twelve  clear,  ringing  strokes. 

Christmas  had  dawned  once  more.  Rodney  went 
out  into  the  hall  and  swept  the  drifts  of  snow  out 
of  it;  then  softly  closed  the  outer  door.  When  he 
came  back  to  the  fire  his  breath  was  coming  pain- 
fully short  and  fast.  He  looked  at  the  odd  little 
figure  in  the  great  arm-chair. 

The  child  was  asleep.  In  the  dim  light  of  the 
fire,  that  had  ceased  to  crackle  merrily,  the  little 
face  looked  even  more  pinched  and  pathetic  and 


26         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

cold  than  it  had  when  she  snuggled  down  in  the 
chair. 

"Poor  little  kid!"  he  whispered  softly.  "I'll 
keep  her — I  don't  care  what  Aunt  Prue  says.  I'll 
keep  her  just  the  same.  She  shan't  be  a  '  hand-me- 
around  orphan '  any  more.  I'd  be  a  mighty  poor 
descendant  of  that  other  Rodney  White  if  I  didn't 
keep  the  gift  the  storm  brought  on  Christmas  Eve. 
And  for  what  other  reason  is  the  door  always  left 
open  on  Christmas  Eve,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  "  he  de- 
manded, as  if  arguing  with  the  stern,  gaunt  woman 
long  since  asleep,  under  her  immaculate  covers,  after 
a  futile  and  yearly  voicement  of  her  contempt  of 
the  open  outer  door  "  just  to  get  the  hall  all  mussed 
up  and  the  carpet  spoiled." 

Rodney  had  laughed  at  her  this  Christmas  Eve 
as  he  had  every  Christmas  Eve  of  his  life  since  his 
father  died  and  left  him  the  trust  of  keeping  the 
door  ajar  for  the  chance  wayfarer  of  the  Holy  Eve. 

His  aunt  had  scornfully  accused  him  of  coming 
from  Europe  at  Christmas  tide,  each  of  the  six 
years  he  had  spent  abroad,  "  just  to  keep  up  the 
foolish  custom,"  as  she  called  it,  begun  so  long  ago 
by  that  other  Rodney  White  to  whom  had  come 
the  beautiful  maiden — the  maiden  who  had  asked 
that  the  outer  door  be  left  ajar  each  Christmas  Eve 
until  some  one  again  came  to  the  square  white  house 


27 

out  of  a  stormy  night.  "  Could  she  have  foreseen 
this  night?"  he  asked  himself,  with  a  whimsical 
little  laugh,  his  eyes  on  the  sleeping  child. 

"  That  kid  ought  to  be  in  bed,"  he  reflected. 
"  But  I  can't  rouse  Aunt  Prue;  she'd  frighten  the 
little  thing  to  death  before  I  got  a  chance  to  let  her 
know  I  want  her." 

He  decided  at  last  to  rekindle  the  fire  and  let 
the  child  sleep  in  the  chair. 

"  Poor  little  kid ! "  he  repeated,  as  he  knelt  on 
the  hearth  and  stirred  the  embers  until  they  snapped 
and  glowed  and  caught  eagerly  at  the  pine  knots  he 
piled  on  them.  Soon  the  fire  was  crackling  merrily. 
The  leaping  light  awoke  the  child. 

The  man  smiled  as  the  level,  sleep-misted  eyes 
looked  into  his. 

"  You  have  had  a  nice  sleep,"  he  announced, 
cheerfully,  "  and  now  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions,  then  trot  you  off  to  bed." 

The  child  smiled  at  him  sleepily. 

His  dark,  somber  face  brightened  with  a  smile 
of  peculiar  sweetness. 

"  Joan  Worthington,"  he  demanded,  in  a  boy- 
ishly judicial  voice,  "  would  you  like  to  stay  with 
me  always?  I  could  adopt  you,  you  know.  I  am 
old  enough  to  make  it  highly  proper.  We'll  do  it 
all  up  to-morrow,  if  you  say  the  word.  There  shall 


28         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

be  no  old  maid  procrastination  in  our  case.  Would 
you  like  to  have  me  adopt  you?  Just  speak  the 
word,  young  lady." 

"  Like  to  stay !  "  Joan  cried,  springing  to  her 
feet.  "  Oh,  tell  me  quick — tell  me  you  are  not  fool- 
ing me — but  you  couldn't  joke  when  it's  so  serious 
to  me,  could  you?  Besides  you  don't  look  like  the 
fooling  kind.  Why  I  haven't  belonged  to  any  one 
since  I  was  two  years  old.  Oh,  tell  me  again  that 
you'll  adopt  me !  I'll  try  so  hard  to  always  be  good 
if  you  take  me.  You  shall  never  be  sorry  that  you 
took  pity  on  a  poor  little  orphan  girl.  Oh,  I'll  try 
so  hard  to  be  good  and  please  you  every  way  if 
you'll  take  me!  It's  rather  strenuous  work  for  me 
to  be  absolutely  and  perfectly  good,  although  I'm 
never  really  ungodly  wicked  except  when  I  get  in 
a  temper  like  I  was  to-night,"  she  added,  with  an 
apologetic  grin. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  adopt  you  to-morrow  if  there  is 
nothing  to  keep  me  from  it,"  Rodney  White  broke 
in,  with  a  radiant  smile.  The  manifest  happiness 
of  the  child  was  good  to  see. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  happy  I'll  have  to  cry  or  burst !  "  she 
suddenly  exclaimed,  and  cry  she  did  most  gustily. 
An  outburst  of  the  shut-in  storm  of  years. 

Finally  Rodney  laid  his  hand  on  her  head. 
"  There  is  no  need  to  cry,  little  girl." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        29 

"No  need  to  cry?"  she  sobbed.  "When  the 
dream  of  my  life  has  come  true — when  I  am  to 
live  with  you  and  that."  She  pointed  a  trembling 
finger  toward  the  violin. 

"  Yes,  little  girl,  you  are  to  live  with  me  and 
that,  but,"  his  voice  broke,  "  the  violin  is  to  be 
silent  for  many  months." 

And  while  the  child  sobbed  on,  but  less  violently, 
he  told  her  of  the  "  sword  of  the  consumptive  " 
hanging  over  his  head — of  the  farewell  he  had 
bidden  his  violin  during  those  last  hours  with  it — 
the  farewell  that  had  spoken  to  her  out  in  the 
storm. 

When  he  had  finished,  she  looked  at  him  with 
eyes  soft  and  gentle  as  the  eyes  that  looked  at  him 
from  the  miniature  of  his  mother. 

"  It  seems  wrong  for  me  to  be  so  happy  when 
you  have  to  give  up  so  much,"  she  said  shyly,  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

Rodney  had  been  poking  the  astonished  fire  with 
vicious  thrusts  with  the  brass  poker,  as  if  the  hiss 
and  crackle  of  the  angry  sparks  appeased  him. 

He  ceased  poking  the  fire  and  turned  to  the  child 
with  a  smile.  "  Never  mind  me  now,  little  girl,"  he 
said,  softly.  "  I  am  sure  your  presence  is  going  to 
make  me  very  happy.  And  I  hope  you  will  always 
be  as  happy  as  you  are  now." 


30         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Happy !  "  she  cried,  passionately.  "  Happy — I 
am  so  happy  that  I  am  thrilling  from  head  to  foot 
with  happiness — perfect  happiness.  And  oh,  it  will 
be  good,  good  if  I  can  make  you  happy,  too!  It 
will  come  out  all  right,  I  know  it  will,"  she  said, 
after  a  pause  during  which  Rodney  studied  her  in- 
tently. "  Miss  Warren  always  said  '  Divine  Love 
always  has  met  and  always  will  meet  every  human 
need.'  And  oh,  it  does !  It  does !  Divine  Love  has 
met  my  most  human  need.  I  belong  to  some  one  at 
last.  Oh,  it's  good !  Good,  to  have  some  one  to  be- 
long to ! " 

"  What  a  kid  it  is !  "  he  laughed. 

She  moved  a  little  from  the  chair.  In  the  new 
attitude  her  profile  was  cut  like  a  cameo  against  the 
sooty  background  of  the  fireplace.  It  was  an  irreg- 
ular outline,  gaining  its  greatest  charm  from  the 
long  curling  lashes;  the  sensitive  nostrils  and  curved 
lips  trembling  with  a  happy  smile. 

Rodney  watched  her  steadily,  his  eyes  sparkling. 

Suddenly  she  whirled  to  him  with  a  motion  not 
unlike  that  of  the  flames  sparkling  on  the  hearth. 

"  Are  you  perfectly  sure  you  want  me  ? "  she 
challenged. 

An  almost  holy  light  came  into  the  man's  eyes. 

"  I  need  you;  need  you  to  help  me  bear  the  giving 
up  of  that — yes,  indeed,  I  want  you." 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        31 

Her  eyes  followed  his  to  the  incased  violin. 

In  the  man's  eyes  was  the  artistic  capacity  for 
intense  joy  as  well  as  the  intense  suffering  that  had 
set  its  seal  in  the  lineaments  of  his  strong,  artistic 
face.  And  there  was  more  joy  than  pain  in  his  gray 
eyes  now — there  was  a  prophetic  forecast  of  the 
knowledge  that  he  did  need  this  child  as  he  had 
never  before  needed  anything. 

He  looked  at  her  to  find  her  regarding  him  with 
puzzled  gravity. 

"Well?" 

"  You  haven't  asked  me  anything  about  my  par- 
entage." 

Rodney  laughed.  "  A  wise  man  once  said,  '  The 
knowing  nothing  of  one  is  precisely  right.  When 
we  know  nothing  of  one  we  can  take  it  for  granted 
that  one  is  everything  we  could  wish  for.'  That 
is  the  way  I  am  willing  to  take  you,  little  girl,  if 
there  is  no  one  else  who  has  a  better  right  to  you." 

"  No  one  has,"  she  answered,  soberly.  "  But 
I'd  like  to  show  you  my  mother's  picture,"  she 
added,  shyly. 

"  If  you  wish,  little  girl." 

The  child  turned  her  back  toward  him.  An  in- 
stant later  she  held  out  to  him  a  miniature  framed 
in  pearls.  A  sweet  face  was  pictured  upon  the 
ivory  in  delicate  colors — a  face  like  that  of  the  girl 


32         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

before  him — the  face  of  a  girl  scarcely  out  of  her 
teens,  with  a  mass  of  gold-brown  hair  piled  high 
on  her  delicately  poised  head. 

Between  heavy,  curling  lashes  the  same  blue  eyes, 
with  glints  of  gold  in  them,  met  his  gaze  with  a 
direct,  wistful  look — wistfully  sad  eyes  were  those 
of  the  miniature  girl — eyes  with  a  depth  of  longing 
in  them  that  held  the  man  transfixed  for  an  instant. 

"  Turn  it  over,"  Joan  said,  softly. 

On  the  back  of  the  locket,  engraved  in  the  dull 
gold,  were  the  words  "  Joanna  from  Norman." 

"  Norman  was  my  father,"  Joan  explained.  "  He 
disappeared  when  I  was  six  months  old.  My  mother 
died  when  I  was  two  years  old.  I  have  their  mar- 
riage certificate,"  she  added,  with  a  note  of  pride 
in  her  voice — likewise  a  challenging  note  was  there, 
as  if  she  recalled  some  word  of  doubt  that  had  in 
the  past  been  directed  at  the  beautiful  mother  she  so 
plainly  adored. 

"  I  am  glad  you  showed  me  that,"  Rodney  said 
at  last,  when  she  had  turned  again  to  replace  the 
miniature. 

Under  his  breath  he  cursed  the  father  who  could 
have  deserted  the  little  girl  child  and  the  wistful- 
eyed  girl  mother. 

"  Shall  I  call  you  Joan  or  Joanna  ?  "  he  asked,  at 
last. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        33 

The  child  turned  with  a  happy  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Call  me  either  one  you  choose.  I  like  to  be 
called  Joan,  but  oh,  I  hate  to  be  called  Jone,  as  Mrs. 
Pepper  pronounces  it!  She  was  always  called 
Joan,"  she  added,  softly,  and  Rodney  knew  that  the 
"  she  "  was  the  girl-mother. 

"  What  shall  I  call  you  ?  "  she  demanded,  in  turn. 
"  According  to  all  the  books  I've  read,  I'd  call  you 
'  Guardy,'  but  I  never  liked  that,  someway." 

"  Call  me  Rodney,"  he  suggested,  with  a  smile. 

She  laughed.  "  That  sounds  nice,  but  hardly 
proper." 

"  I  like  it."  He  stood  up  and  looked  down  upon 
her  with  a  smile. 

"  We'll  get  properly  adopted  and  classified  by 
high  noon.  It's  to  bed,  now.  Can  you  step 
lightly?" 

"  As  light  as  a  cat,"  she  flashed  back. 

"  Well,  I  have  an  aunt,  you  know,  and  we 
wouldn't  like  to  awaken  her.  She's — well,  she's 
exceedingly  nice,  you  know,  and  all  that,  but  it  isn't 
just  the  thing  to  awaken  a  maiden  lady  at  this  time 
of  the  morning,  is  it  ?  " 

Joan  smiled  understandingly. 

"  She  might  not  like  it,"  she  volunteered. 

"  Just  so;  you  are  a  very  discerning  young  lady. 
So  walk  easy.  Straight  up  the  stairs,  then  to  the 


34         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

right  to  the  second  room.  You'll  find  a  bed  there 
you  can  lose  yourself  in,  and  a  good  sleep  is  what 
you  need." 

He  took  a  candle  from  the  mantel,  lighted  it, 
and  handed  it  to  her  with  a  kindly  "  Good-night, 
or,  rather,  good-morning,  little  girl." 

With  an  intense  "  Good-morning,"  Joan  left  the 
room.  Not  once  did  the  stairs  creak  under  her 
careful  tread. 

Rodney  settled  himself  before  the  fire  and  poked 
it  reflectively.  "  She's  stanch  and  true  or  I  miss 
my  guess — and  there's  fire  in  her,  too."  He  smiled 
whimsically  as  he  recalled  the  flash  in  her  eyes 
when  she  told  of  Mrs.  Pepper's  unjust  accusation. 

Toward  dawn  the  storm  swept  back  from  the  open 
country  with  an  added  strength  and  fury.  The 
wild,  lashing  wind  whipped  a  steady  downfall  of 
snow  against  the  windows  and  tore  at  the  roof  of 
the  square  white  house,  but  through  it  all  Rodney 
White  slept  in  his  chair  before  a  fitful  fire.  Slept 
and  dreamed  of  the  maiden  who  had  come  out  of 
the  storm  to  that  other  Rodney  White  so  long  ago 
and  of  the  child  who  had  come  to  him  in  answer  to 
the  call  of  his  violin — and  in  his  dream  his  great 
love  for  his  violin  seemed,  in  a  measure,  to  have 
been  transferred  to  the  child,  Joan. 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  was  almost  noon  when  Joan  awoke.  For  an 
instant  she  stared  in  a  bewildered  way  at  the 
pale  wintry  sun  glimmering  in  through  the 
windows.  Then  came  an  exhilarating  thrill  of  re- 
membrance. It  was  Christmas  Day  and,  yes,  she 
at  last  had  the  promise  of  a  home!  And  there  was 
a  maple  tree  just  outside  the  window  with  its  ice- 
shrouded  limbs  glistening  and  sparkling  under  the 
subtle  warmth  of  the  sun. 

With  a  cry  of  delight,  she  bounded  out  of  bed 
and  across  the  floor  and  dropped  on  her  knees  be- 
fore the  window,  rejoicing  that  she  had  carefully 
raised  the  shades,  when  she  crept  softly  up  to  bed. 

Her  luminous  eyes  danced  with  delight  as  she 
looked  out  over  the  glistening  world.  The  fantastic 
shapes  of  the  icicles  hanging  from  the  roof  of  the 
house  and  the  limbs  of  the  trees  appealed  to  her 
fertile  imagination,  and  she  fell  to  weaving  a  won- 
derful story  of  an  enchanted  ice  world  ruled  by  a 
fairy  queen  with  two  magic  wands — one  of  gold  to 
brighten  and  warm  the  world  by  day;  the  other  of 
silver  to  shed  a  mystic  glow  over  the  night. 

35 


36         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

It  was  characteristic  of  Joan  that  until  the 
phantasy  was  finished  in  her  mind  she  was  con- 
scious of  nothing  but  her  delight  in  it. 

As  she  put  on  her  skimpy  dress — she  had  of 
necessity  slept  in  her  scanty  undergarments — she 
greedily  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  world  revealed 
to  her  through  the  window. 

On  both  sides  of  the  house  were  glistening  ice- 
covered  trees.  Off  across  the  buried  car  tracks  were 
low,  sloping  fields  of  glittering  white.  To  the  left 
lay  the  town. 

"  Oh,  I  love  the  whole  world !  "  she  cried  at  last, 
ecstatically.  "  The  dear  mother  earth  is  laughing 
under  her  beautiful  robe  of  snow.  I  know  she  is — 
laughing  and  chuckling  over  the  thought  of  the  little 
spring  flowers  held  close  to  her  heart." 

Suddenly  she  realized  that  she  was  hungry  and 
downstairs  was  the  man  who  had  promised  to  adopt 
her — the  man  who  represented  the  fulfillment  of 
the  dream  of  her  life. 

Perhaps  he  was  expecting  her  that  very  instant. 
She  trembled  with  ecstatic  excitement  at  the  very 
thought  of  it  while  she  combed  her  heavy  brown 
hair  with  a  huge  comb. 

She  was  hilariously  happy,  as  she  started  down 
the  long  narrow  stairway — she  longed  to  slide  down 
the  banister  to  give  vent  to  her  exuberance,  but,  re- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         37 

membering  her  determination  to  be  dignity  incar- 
nate, descended  the  long  flight  of  stairs  as  sedately 
as  would  have  a  Colonial  dame. 

Her  hand  was  on  the  door  of  the  room  she  had 
spent  such  memorable  moments  in,  a  few  hours 
before,  when  the  sound  of  voices  arrested  her. 

A  woman  was  speaking,  and  the  words  chilled  the 
heart  of  the  little  listener  with  a  more  deadly  cold 
than  had  the  storm  of  the  night  before. 

She  did  not  listen  in  the  spirit  of  an  eaves- 
dropper. She  could  not  have  moved  to  save  her 
life. 

"  Rodney !  Surely  you  are  not  serious.  You  can- 
not intend  to  adopt  a  child  of  whom  you  know 
nothing — a  perfect  scarecrow  of  a  child  at  that.  I 
saw  her  with  my  own  eyes  on  the  best  feather  bed 
in  the  house !  " 

"  But  I  do,  Aunt  Prudence,  I  assure  you.  I  in- 
tend to  take  this  child  and  do  what  I  can  for  her 
during  the  next  few  years — if — if  I  have  a  few 
years."  His  voice  quivered,  but  the  icy  hand  about 
Joan's  heart  relaxed  its  grip  a  little,  then  tightened 
again  as  the  cold,  metallic  voice  of  the  woman  came 
again. 

"  A  child  about  the  house  will  make  a  great  dif- 
ference, Rodney.  And  such  a  child,"  she  added, 
with  a  snort  of  rage,  "  asleep  on  the  best  feather 


38        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

bed  in  Poke  County  with  part  of  her  clothing  on !  " 

"  Aunt  Prudence,"  Rodney  broke  in.  "  I  intend 
to  raise  that  child.  Please  remember  that,  and  also 
please  remember  that  the  child  is  sensitive,  and  until 
I  can  get  her  some  more  clothing  she  must  not  be 
made  to  feel  there  is  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
in  her  sleeping  as  she  did  last  night.  Poor  little 
girl,  she  may  not  even  know  any  better,  but  she  is 
bright,  Aunt  Prue!  She's  a  perfect  witch  of  a 
child." 

"  That's  just  it,  Rodney  White.  You  are  be- 
witched. I  don't  doubt  that  in  the  least — design- 
ing little  imp — some  one  has  told  her  of  that  fool 
custom  of  leaving  the  door  open  on  Christmas  Eve 
and  she's  come  then  just  to  work  on  your  feelings. 
No  doubt  she's  a  witch,  as  you  call  her.  Men  usually 
get  hoodwinked  by  the  big-eyed  kind  and  all  you 
can  talk  about  is  her  appealing  big  eyes — appealing 
fiddlesticks!  She's  some  nameless  brat,  mark  my 
words,  Rodney  White." 

The  retort  on  Rodney  White's  lips  was  never 
voiced. 

The  door  burst  open  and  with  one  bound  Joan 
crossed  the  room  and  stood  before  Prudence  White, 
her  eyes  blazing  with  anger,  her  mouth  quivering, 
and  her  whole  slight  figure  shaking  from  head  to 
foot. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        39 

The  band  about  her  heart  had  turned  from  ice 
into  a  heat  that  almost  suffocated  her. 

"  You  wicked,  wicked  woman !  "  she  cried,  in  a 
choked  voice,  stamping  her  foot  on  the  floor. 

"  How  can  you  calmly  call  any  one  a  nameless 
brat  when  you  know  absolutely  nothing  about  them  ? 
I  am  not  nameless,  thank  God!  I  am  also  well 
aware  of  the  proper  garments  to  wear  at  night." 

For  a  moment  she  continued  to  face  Prudence 
White  unflinchingly,  her  head  tilted  back — the  spirit 
of  anger  incarnate.  As  suddenly  as  ceases  an  April 
shower  the  flare  of  anger  left  her  eyes. 

With  a  pathetic  little  moan  she  turned  to  Rodney. 

"  Forgive  me,  forgive  me !  "  she  pleaded,  her  lips 
quivering.  "  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  I  spit  out  at 
her,  if  she's  the  aunt  you  mentioned  last  night. 
The  trouble  with  me  is  I  never  stop  to  think  when 
I  am  angry.  I  should  not  have  listened,  either.  I 
did  not  intend  to.  I  came  downstairs  with  a  flood 
of  sunshine  and  love  in  my  heart  and  now  I'm  deso- 
late again.  You  can't  want  me  after  exploding  at 
her  that  way.  Oh,  oh,  I'm  perfectly  miserable !  " 
She  looked  it,  as  she  flung  herself  down  on  her 
knees  before  the  irate  woman  sitting  bolt  upright 
on  the  extreme  edge  of  her  chair. 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  Prudence  White  gasped,  as 
Joan  looked  up  at  her  imploringly. 


40         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  Joan  said,  her  voice  quivering 
with  emotion.  "  Honesty  compels  me  to  repeat 
you  were  unjust  to  talk  the  way  you  did,  and  a 
woman  of  your  age  must  know  perfectly  well  that 
the  Bible  says  to  '  judge  not.'  At  the  same  time, 
I  had  no  right  to  blaze  out  at  you  as  I  did,  and  I 
repeat  that  I  am  extremely  sorry." 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  Prudence  White  repeated. 
For  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  have  said 
more. 

Rodney  broke  the  tension  of  the  moments  that 
followed — moments  that  neither  Prudence  White 
nor  the  child  kneeling  before  her  ever  forgot. 

"  Tell  her  you  forgive  her,  Aunt  Prue,"  his  voice 
had  a  note  of  pleading  in  it. 

"  Yes,  please  forgive  me,"  Joan  cried,  eagerly. 
"  Let's  have  '  Peace  and  good  will '  among  us 
all." 

Prudence  White  moved  her  lips  to  say,  she  knew 
not  what,  and  the  words  that  she  did  speak  were 
no  more  of  a  surprise  to  Rodney  White  than  they 
were  to  her. 

"  Get  up,  child,  I  forgive  you.  You  are  not  my 
kettle  of  fish  to  fry,  anyway.  I've  always  tried  to 
do  my  duty  by  Rodney  White,  and  if  he  wants  you 
I  suppose  it's  my  duty  to  let  him  have  you,  and 
that  settles  it  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        41 

"  Oh !  Oh !  I  do  thank  you  and  forgive  you, 
too,  for  saying  what  you  did,  although  for  a  mo- 
ment I  hated  you." 

Prudence  smiled  grimly.  She  was  not  aware  that 
she  had  asked  to  be  forgiven. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  I  am  so  happy  again,"  Joan  cried, 
springing  to  her  feet  and,  before  the  astonished 
woman  could  prevent  it,  planted  a  tremulous  kiss  on 
the  woman's  smooth  cheek. 

"Well,  I  never!"  Prudence  gasped,  as  she  me- 
chanically rubbed  the  spot  touched  by  the  child's 
lips. 

Rodney  smiled  and  drew  the  child  to  him.  She 
nestled  in  his  arms  with  a  sigh  of  content. 

Prudence  White  looked  at  the  man  and  the  child 
a  moment  in  silence,  then  said,  dryly : 

"  I  don't  envy  you  your  charge,  Rodney,  but  if 
you're  satisfied — I  reckon  I'll  have  to  be.  I'll  get 
her  something  to  eat.  She  looks  hungry  enough, 
goodness  knows." 

Joan's  eyes  gave  one  ominous  flash;  then  a  gleam 
of  mirth  danced  in  them,  as  Prudence  White  stalked 
majestically  from  the  room. 

Any  one  who  knew  Prudence  White  would  have 
been  amazed  at  the  quick  concession  she  had  made. 

She  had  never  pretended  to  be  fond  of  children 
and  was  openly  and  publicly  thankful  when  Rodney 


42         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

White,  her  dead  brother's  child,  outgrew  the  age  of 
pinafores  and  dependence. 

His  mother  never  lived  to  see  the  man-child  for 
whom  she  had  prayed  and  for  whom  she  had  gladly 
given  her  life. 

Prudence  White  secretly  took  a  sort  of  stony 
pride  in  her  nephew's  achievements  at  school  and 
his  growing  mastery  of  the  violin  from  the  age  of 
seven  until  it  was  now  said  of  him  in  more  than 
one  land,  "  He  is  greater  than  Ysaye." 

Although  she  frankly  admitted  to  herself  that  she 
did  not  in  the  least  understand  it,  she  secretly  cher- 
ished one  of  many  newspaper  clippings,  which  read 
in  part: 

"  His  notes  are  always  charged  with  clearness 
and  authority.  The  thrill  of  his  music  runs  like  an 
electric  chain  about  his  audience. 

"  His  tones  are  all  shades  of  color  and  illimitable 
interpretative  resonance,  human  sympathy,  and  im- 
pulsive and  propulsive  temperament. 

"  He  is  at  home  in  every  style  of  music.  He 
lends  majesty  to  Handel,  poetical  charm  to  Viotti, 
tenderness  to  Beethoven,  grace  to  Boccherini,  soul- 
fulness  to  Weber,  and  nobility  to  Mozart." 

Prudence  White  never  let  her  nephew  see  her 
gratification  in  him,  but  in  the  depths  of  her  heart 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         43 

was  an  almost  unconscious  dread  of  the  time  when 
he  should  bring  a  wife  to  his  home;  for  Prudence 
White,  forty-five  and  a  spinster,  held  old-fashioned 
notions  concerning  a  woman's  sphere,  and  even  the 
quiet,  prim  young  women  of  Orion  did  not  quite 
meet  with  her  approval  of  what  the  wife  of  Rodney 
White  should  be. 

"  Aunt  Prue  means  well,  little  girl,"  said  Rodney, 
encouragingly,  as  the  library  door  was  jerked  to 
with  a  subdued  slam. 

Joan  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  arm  he  had 
about  her  neck. 

"  She's  made  that  way,  I  imagine,"  she  said, 
slowly.  "  So  many  of  them  are  in  this  town.  They 
get  so  perpendicular  it's  a  wonder  they  don't  break 
when  they  move  quick." 

The  spontaneity  of  Rodney's  laugh  brought  the 
blood  stinging  to  the  girl's  face. 

Seeing  the  hurt  light  in  her  eyes  he  endeavored 
to  check  his  mirth. 

"Did  you  ever  go  to  a  circus,  Joan?"  he  ques- 
tioned, abruptly. 

She  smiled,  a  little  reminiscent  smile.  "  I  went 
once,  and  it  exceeded  even  my  wildest  anticipations 
of  it.  I  had  to  swallow  lumps  in  my  throat  all  the 
time,  I  was  so  thrilled,  and  when  a  perfectly 
gorgeous  man  took  a  dive  of  sixty  feet  through 


44         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

space,  little  cold  feelings  chased  themselves  up  and 
down  my  spine  until  I  got  so  excited  I  went  over 
backward.  Fortunately  for  me  we  were  on  the 
fourth  row  of  seats  from  the  ground  and  I  wasn't 
hurt — except  my  pride." 

Her  clear  treble  merged  with  Rodney's  deeper 
laugh  this  time,  and  the  ring  of  it  reached  Prudence 
White  in  her  immaculate  kitchen.  At  the  sound  of 
it  she  clicked  her  lips  tight  together  and  through 
her  set  teeth  emitted  a  snort  of  disdain,  even  as  she 
dropped  three  spoonfuls  of  her  famous  buckwheat 
batter  on  the  hot  spider. 

Prudence  White  was  a  conscientious  woman,  as 
stern  with  herself  as  with  her  neighbors — and  she 
browned  the  hot  cakes  for  Joan  as  carefully  as  she 
would  have  browned  them  for  the  President.  She 
and  Rodney  had  breakfasted  early  in  the  morning, 
fully  three  hours  before  she  knew  of  Joan's  pres- 
ence in  the  house. 

While  Joan  was  eating  breakfast,  Rodney  left 
the  house  on  a  mission  of  his  own,  with  a  promise 
to  Joan,  that  after  his  return  they  would  call  on 
Mrs.  Pepper. 

"  I  can  forgive  even  her  this  morning,"  Joan  had 
responded  happily,  then  applied  herself  to  Prudence 
White's  justly  famous  buckwheat  cakes. 

Prudence  watched  Joan  carefully,  and  by  the  end 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        45 

of  the  meal  was  inclined  to  think  well  of  her.  It 
was  not  her  expressive  eyes,  and  certainly  not  her 
quick  way  of  speaking  for  herself.  It  was  the 
manner  in  which  she  ate  and  appreciated  the  cakes. 

With  Joan's  table  manners  no  fault  could  be 
found  by  one  even  more  fastidious  than  her  present 
critic.  Besides  that,  she  ate  with  appreciative  ejac- 
ulations interjected  between  bites,  such  as,  "  I  never 
ate  anything  like  these  cakes,  never!  Never!  I 
don't  believe  the  manna  fed  to  the  children  of  Israel 
could  have  tasted  better." 

"  You  seem  rather  familiar  with  the  Bible,"  Pru- 
dence remarked,  dryly,  after  the  manna  outburst. 

"  I  should  think  I  ought  to  be,"  Joan  flashed 
back.  "  I  own  exactly  one  Bible  and  one  book  of 
fairy  tales.  I've  read  the  Bible  through  from  cover 
to  cover  exactly  six  times — the  fairy  book  seventeen 
times." 

"  Humph !  "  said  Prudence,  sharply,  eying  the 
child  as  if  it  were  a  serious  shortcoming  to  have 
read  the  Bible  through  but  six  times. 

Joan  realized  that  she  was  being  looked  upon  dis- 
approvingly. She  sighed.  "  I  suppose  I  should 
have  read  the  Bible  more  times  than  I  have,  but  it's 
such  a  large  book  compared  to  the  fairy  tales — or 
perhaps  you  think  I  should  not  have  read  the  fairy 
tales  at  all.  Miss  Warren  did  not  approve  of  them." 


46 

"  I  am  not  judging  you,"  retorted  Prudence, 
stiffly. 

Joan  was  meekly  silent  until  she  had  finished  her 
breakfast. 

Prudence  broke  the  silence.  "  I  suppose  you  are 
not  quite  a  heathen  if  you  have  read  the  Bible  so 
many  times — that  is  if  you  remember  enough  of  it 
to  do  you  any  good,"  she  added,  suspiciously. 

"  Indeed,  I  remember  more  than  you  think — I 
know  all  the  '  Sermon  on  the  Mount,'  "  Joan  broke 
in,  eagerly,  and  promptly  and  glibly  and  correctly 
repeated  it.  "  I  know  all  of  '  Job/  too,"  she  added, 
proudly — "  and " 

"  Why  Job  ?  "  Prudence  asked,  involuntarily,  or 
so  it  ever  afterward  seemed  to  her. 

"  Well,  Job  was  afflicted,  you  know,  and  had  his 
proud  spirit  humbled  and  tried,  and  I've  been  tried 
and  humbled  all  my  life,  and  when  I'm  in  the  deep- 
est valley  of  humiliation  it  comforts  me  to  remem- 
ber Job,  although  Miss  Warren  said  I  did  not  un- 
derstand Job  properly.  I  suppose  I  don't,"  she 
added,  ruefully.  "  But  the  thought  of  Job's  trials 
and  tribulations  has  been  a  staff  to  my  fainting 
soul  many  a  time  in  spite  of  Miss  Warren  shaking 
my  faith  in  my  own  interpretation  of  it." 

"Well,  I  never!"  Prudence  ejaculated,  weakly. 

"Shall   I   repeat  something  else?"  Joan  ques- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        47 

tioned,  eagerly.  "  I  know  most  of  the  '  Gospel  of 
St.  John  ' — all  of  '  Esther  '  and  '  Ruth  '  and  part 
of  '  Revelation.'  Isn't  there  something  splendid 
about  the  roll  of  some  of  the  verses  in  '  Revela- 
tion '  ?  Some  of  them  give  me  such  a  creepy  feel- 
ing up  and  down  my  back  that  I  love  to  say  them 
when  I  am  tired  out  with  the  cares  of  the  day,  like  I 
always  was  at  night  at  Mrs.  Pepper's.  I  know  a 
lot  of  other  things,  too,"  she  continued,  brightly, 
as  she  began  deftly  to  clear  the  table. 

Prudence  White  sat  stiffly  on  the  edge  of  her  chair 
and  stared  at  the  odd  little  being  talking  so  freely 
about  the  Bible.  It  made  her  quake  inwardly  be- 
because  of  such  seeming  irreverence.  Prudence 
White  was  accustomed  when  speaking  of  things 
Biblical  to  speak  with  what  she  considered  proper 
diffidence. 

Joan  shocked  her,  and  yet  she  realized  that  the 
child  was  not  lacking  in  veneration  of  the  words 
she  repeated  so  easily.  Of  a  sudden  she  realized 
that  Joan  was  not  quoting  the  Bible. 

"  '  Man  is  tributary  to  God,  Spirit,  and  to  nothing 
else.  God's  being  is  infinity,  freedom,  harmony, 
and  boundless  bliss,'  "  she  heard  as  if  in  a  dream. 

"  '  There  is  no  life,  truth,  intelligence,  nor  sub- 
stance in  matter.  All  is  infinite  Mind  and  its  in- 
finite manifestation,  for  God  is  All  in  All.  Spirit 


48         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

is  Immortal  Truth;  matter  is  mortal  error.  Spirit 
is  the  real  and  eternal;  matter  the  unreal  and  tem- 
poral. Spirit  is  God  and  man  is  His  image  and 
likeness;  hence  man  is  spiritual  and  not  material/  ' 
Joan  quoted  as  she  deftly  washed,  rinsed,  and  care- 
fully dried  her  breakfast  dishes  and  set  them  on  the 
table. 

"What  is  that?"  Prudence  demanded,  weakly, 
as  Joan  hesitated  an  instant  before  giving  further 
demonstrations  of  her  mental  capacity  for  mem- 
orizing. 

"That  I  just  finished?" 

Prudence  nodded. 

"  Why,  that  is  the  scientific  statement  of  being," 
Joan  explained,  cheerfully.  "  Sounds  splendid, 
don't  it?  This  one  is  the  scientific  statement  of  life. 
I  learned  a  lot  out  of  the  Christian  Science  book 
while  I  was  with  Miss  Warren.  I  think  this  sounds 
fine,  '  Life  is  divine  Principle,  Mind,  Soul,  Spirit, 
without  beginning  and  without  end.  Eternity,  not 
time ' " 

"  Stop !  "  Prudence  interrupted,  firmly.  "  Stop 
right  there !  "  she  repeated,  as  if  to  give  herself  some 
mental  support. 

Joan  stopped  so  suddenly  she  choked,  and  by  the 
time  she  had  emptied  a  glass  of  water  and  was 
ready  to  continue  Prudence  was  herself  again. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        49 

"  You've  got  a  long  tongue,"  she  said,  dryly. 
"  Too  long  to  suit  me,  but  I'm  fair  enough  to  admit 
you  seem  to  know  quite  a  bit,  but  just  remember  in 
the  future  I  don't  care  to  hear  any  of  the  things 
you've  been  saying  unless  it  is  the  Bible  verses,  and 
I  can  read  them  for  myself,  thank  the  Lord,  so 
there's  no  call  for  you  to  say  any  of  them  to  me. 

"  As  for  what  I  heard  of  the  rest  of  your  speak- 
ing, it  sounds  mightily  like  heresy  to  me.  You  may 
not  understand  what  you're  saying  and  again  you 
may,  but  you  can  talk  less  and  you  must,  do  you 
understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  Joan  answered,  meekly,  all  ani- 
mation gone  out  of  her  eyes. 

"  Now  go  into  the  other  room  until  Rodney 
comes,"  Prudence  added,  less  sternly. 

Joan  gladly  obeyed. 

When  the  door  closed  behind  the  child,  Prudence 
drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief  and  clicked  her  lips  to- 
gether as  she  began  to  put  the  dishes  away. 

And  in  the  library,  Joan,  with  her  thin  face 
pressed  against  the  cold  window,  looked  wistfully 
out  on  the  maple-bordered  path  for  Rodney  White. 


CHAPTER  III 

JUDGE  WHEATON  lived  three  doors  from 
Rodney  White's,  straight  down  the  car  line, 
in  a  rambling  Colonial  mansion  set  well  back 
from  the  street  and  surrounded  by  gigantic  silver 
maple  trees  that  had  reared  their  proud  heads  sky- 
ward for  more  than  a  hundred  years. 

The  Judge  was  unfeignedly  delighted  to  see 
Rodney. 

"  Well !  Well !  It's  good  to  see  you.  Christmas 
greetings,  my  boy,"  he  cried,  heartily.  With  Rod- 
ney's hand  still  grasped  in  his,  he  drew  the  young 
man  into  his  library,  where  in  the  great  fireplace, 
on  huge  dog  irons,  a  Yuletide  log  crackled  a  sea- 
sonable lay. 

"  The  Season's  best  cheer  to  you,  Judge,"  said 
Rodney,  giving  an  answering  pressure  to  the  strong 
hand  clasping  his. 

Judge  Wheaton  was  a  hale,  twinkling-eyed  man 
of  sixty — a  man  who  had  ever  been  as  a  foster  fa- 
ther to  the  dreamy  lad  whose  aunt  had  never  encour- 
aged him  to  break  down  the  barrier  of  reserve  by 

50 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         51 

which  he  was  surrounded,  a  barrier  that  hedged  him 
in  a  world  of  his  own,  a  world  to  the  door  of  which 
only  two  men  held  the  key,  and  one  of  them  was 
the  man  who  now  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  jovial 
fire;  the  other,  the  famous  physician  who  had  de- 
creed the  desert  for  him. 

"  What  is  this  the  doctor  writes  me  about  your 
going  to  California?"  came  at  last  from  the  man 
in  whose  veins  flowed  the  good  red  blood  of  per- 
fect health. 

"  So  Stephen  wrote  you,  did  he  ?  " 

Rodney  gave  a  sigh,  drew  his  chair  up  with  a 
little  jerk,  and  passed  his  long  fingers  slowly 
through  his  heavy  dark  hair.  "  I  thought  he  would 
write,"  he  added.  "  In  fact,  I  suggested  that  he 
write  you  before  I  returned." 

Judge  Wheaton's  hand  shot  out  to  meet  Rod- 
ney's with  a  man's  grip  of  silent,  sympathetic  under- 
standing. 

The  fire  glowed  and  popped  and  crackled;  the 
grandfather  clock  in  the  corner  ticked  off  the  min- 
utes with  majestic  pomp  while  Rodney  White  glided 
into  one  of  those  strange  mental  experiences  where 
all  that  happens  seems  preordained,  a  mere  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  moment  spent  in  the  same  manner 
centuries  before. 

Even  before  Judge  Wheaton  broke  the  silence, 


52         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney  knew  that  his  friend  was  about  to  speak — 
knew  what  he  was  about  to  say. 

"  By  treating  the  subject  lightly,  lad,  the  disease 
will  be  robbed  of  half  its  terrors." 

The  sturdy  man  avoided  the  wistful  eyes  of  the 
young  man.  "  And,  remember,"  he  continued, 
gravely,  "  with  the  same  kindly  persistence  that  na- 
ture uses  in  healing  the  bleeding  stump  of  one  of 
her  forest  giants  or  covering  the  uneven  and  un- 
sightly surfaces  of  the  earth  with  vegetation,  she 
is  ready  to  give  life  and  strength  to  the  ones  who 
get  close  enough  to  her  generous,  life-renewing 
heart.  When  do  you  go  ?  "  he  broke  off,  abruptly. 

"  Day  after  to-morrow,  Judge." 

"  Good  boy,  that  is  the  spirit !  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you  before  you  start  ?  " 

"  Rather,  yes,"  Rodney  laughed  boyishly. 
"  That  is  one  reason  why  I  am  here  so  early  this 
morning.  I  want  you  to  make  a  family  man  of  me 
this  very  day." 

"What?" 

"  Just  so,"  Rodney  replied,  gravely,  enjoying  his 
friend's  astonishment. 

"  You !  You !  You  cannot  mean  that  you  are 
going  to  get  married  ?  " 

"  No."  Rodney  grew  grave  again.  "  Even 
though  I  cared  for  a  woman,  Judge,  the  barrier  of 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         53 

my  disease  stands  between  me  and  that — may  al- 
ways stand  between  me  and  that.  What  I  do  want 
is  your  legal  aid  in  adopting  a  child." 

"  Explain  yourself,"  the  Judge  commanded, 
tersely.  He  listened  with  varying  flashes  of  amuse- 
ment and  sympathetic  understanding  flashing  across 
his  expressive  face  as  Rodney  told  of  his  farewell 
to  his  violin,  and  of  the  sprite  of  a  child  who  had 
come  to  him  the  night  before. 

"  And  I  want  to  adopt  her  to-day,  Judge,"  Rod- 
ney concluded,  with  a  wistful  note  in  his  voice.  "  I 
want  to  give  the  little  kid  the  legal  proof  of  a  home 
as  a  Christmas  gift,  besides  I  have  often  thought 
I  should  like  to  try  my  hand  at  bringing  up  a  child," 
he  added,  whimsically.  "  I  will  confess  that  I  would 
much  prefer  a  boy,  still  this  gives  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  what  I  can  do  in  that  line — and  her 
gratitude  at  the  very  thought  of  having  a  home,  at 
last,  is  about  the  sweetest  thing  that  has  ever  come 
to  me.  And  you  know  she  came  out  of  the  storm 
just  as  my  grandmother  did.  It  almost  seems  as  if 
my  grandmother  knew  that  she  would  come  and 
had  the  door  left  ajar  all  these  years  on  Christmas 
Eve  for  her.  I  shudder  to  think  what  would  have 
become  of  her  if  the  door  had  not  been  open." 

"  How  does  Prudence  take  it  ?  " 

"  Like  a  martyr,"  Rodney  responded.    "  She  con- 


54         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

siders  it  her  Christian  duty  to  let  me  make  a  fool 
of  myself  if  I'm  determined  to,  anyway,"  he  added, 
whimsically.  "  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Judge  ?  " 

Judge  Wheaton  studied  the  young  man's  face  in- 
tently, as  he  answered  with  judicial  gravity. 
"  From  what  you  say,  my  boy,  the  child  must  be  of 
the  right  mettle.  If  so,  I  am  with  you.  Anybody 
is  happier  by  having  a  child  about."  A  tender  light 
came  into  the  Judge's  eyes.  His  own  little  grand- 
daughter, Bess,  was  about  the  age  of  this  child- 
waif. 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  go  you  one  better,"  he  cried,  en- 
thusiastically. "  I  sent  to  New  York  for  some 
clothes  for  Bess,  a  whole  outfit.  They  are  too  small 
for  her,  though,  so  I'll  add  those  to  my  legal 
services  for  good  measure.  Perhaps  they  will  just 
fit  your  lassie." 

"  Good !  "  Rodney  exclaimed.  "  To  quote  her,  I 
was  in  the  depths  of  despair  about  clothing  for  her 
to-day.  I'll  pay  you  for  them,  however.  You  see," 
he  added,  as  he  met  the  objection  that  sprang  to 
his  friend's  eyes,  "  you  have  had  a  long  time  in 
which  to  enjoy  purchasing  such  things  and  I  want 
to  begin  right  now." 

The  Judge  smiled  assent,  thinking  how  dear  the 
young  man  was  to  him — how  he  had  always  wished 
the  sensitive  lad  had  been  his  own  son. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         55 

"  Now,  give  me  the  name  cf  the  asylum  and  I'll 
wire  there  for  corroboration  of  the  child's  story, 
also  for  information." 

"  Ask  for  information  in  detail  at  my  expense," 
Rodney  broke  in,  eagerly.  "  You  will  be  able  to 
get  authority  from  there  to  make  out  the  adoption 
papers  right  away,  will  you  not  ?  " 

The  Judge  nodded  a  smiling  assent,  as  he  rang 
the  call  bell  on  his  desk.  He  foresaw  that  the  little 
waif  might  mean  life  itself  for  his  friend.  There 
was  an  animated  light  in  the  young  man's  dark  eyes 
that  had  not  been  there  since  this  disease  began  to 
fasten  itself  upon  him. 

The  Judge's  negro  servant,  Joe,  took  the  tele- 
gram he  had  written  to  the  matron  of  Hope  Orphan 
Asylum. 

Joe's  wife,  Mirandy,  intercepted  Joe  in  the  hall, 
and  Joe's  reply  to  Mirandy's  inquisitive  desire  to 
know  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  his  errand 
reached  the  men  in  the  library. 

"  Go  long,  nigger,"  they  heard  Joe  say,  disgust- 
edly. Very  important  was  Joe  when  dealing  with 
women  of  his  own  color. 

"  I'se  gwine  on  de  Jedge's  business.  An'  I  cain't 
see  why  you  am  always  wagglin'  dat  fool  tongue 
ob  yours  ober  his  business  for,  nohow." 

"  Good  for  Joe,"  Rodney  laughed. 


56         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  He  is  the  head  of  his  household,  all  right,"  the 
Judge  responded,  with  a  musical  chuckle,  then  a 
flush  spread  over  his  fine  face.  The  Judge  was 
not  lord  and  master  of  his  own  home. 

An  hour  later  the  answer  came  to  the  Judge's 
wire,  and,  woman-like,  the  matron  of  the  asylum 
had  answered  the  message  in  detail  with  a  splendid 
disregard  for  the  fact  that  telegrams  cost  a  certain 
number  of  cents  for  each  and  every  word. 

Rodney  openly  exulted  as  the  Judge  read  aloud : 

"  JUDGE  SAMUEL  WHEATON, 

"  Orion,  Vermont. 
"  Esteemed  Sir: — 

"  The  child  of  whom  you  inquire,  Joan  Worth- 
ington,  came  accidently  to  Hope  Asylum  when  about 
two  years  of  age.  An  old  Scotchwoman,  presuma- 
bly her  nurse,  was  killed  by  a  runaway  horse  in 
front  of  the  refuge  door.  The  child  escaped  un- 
harmed. She  will  be  twelve  years  old  the  first  of 
May,  next.  In  an  old  hand  satchel  carried  by  the 
woman  was  found  a  marriage  certificate  evidently 
of  the  child's  parents,  as  a  locket  worn  by  the  child 
had  the  same  given  name  engraved  upon  it  as  was 
on  the  back  of  the  marriage  certificate  with  the  date 
of  the  child's  birth.  Advertising  failed  to  bring 
any  one  to  claim  the  child,  so  she  became  a  charge 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         57 

of  the  asylum,  eligible   for  adoption.     Since  you 
vouch  for  your  client,  there  is  no  known  reason 
why  he  should  not  become  her  legal  guardian. 
"  Respectfully, 

"  MARTHA  KENT, 
"  Matron  of  Hope  Orphan  Asylum." 

"  I  don't  envy  you  your  telegraph  toll,"  the 
Judge  laughed,  when  he  had  finished  reading  the 
message. 

"  Every  word  more  than  pays  for  itself,"  Rodney 
returned,  cheerfully,  as  the  Judge  set  about  getting 
the  papers  ready. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  she  is  just  a  child  yet,"  the 
Judge  said,  meaningly,  as  he  indicated  the  space  on 
the  adoption  papers  for  Rodney's  signature. 

Rodney  felt  a  distinct  sense  of  pleasure  as  he 
affixed  his  name  to  the  papers  that  legally  gave  him 
the  guardianship  of  the  child  of  whose  very  exist- 
ance  he  had  not  known  twenty- four  hours  previous. 

"  Mrs.  Pepper's  next,"  he  said,  gravely,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  Joan's  eager  face  pressed  against 
the  library  window  as  he  turned  into  the  maple 
flanked  path. 

He  waved  his  hand  at  the  child  and  smiled  hap- 
pily, as  she  came  flying  out  at  the  door,  letting  it 
bang  cheerfully  behind  her. 


58         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

He  set  the  box  containing  the  clothing  he  had 
acquired  for  her  from  his  friend  down  on  the  icy 
path,  running  like  a  silver  ribbon  from  the  street 
to  the  door,  and  caught  the  child  in  his  arms,  with 
"  Well,  young  lady,  how  did  you  and  Aunt  Prue 
manage  to  get  along?  " 

Joan's  expressive  face  clouded.  "  I  am  afraid  I 
talked  too  much.  In  fact,  I  know  I  did,"  she  an- 
swered, truthfully. 

"  I  have  something  for  you  in  that  box."  Rodney 
changed  the  subject,  somewhat  surprised  at  his 
irritation  at  his  aunt. 

"  In  this  box !  "  Joan  cried,  flinging  herself  down 
on  her  knees  on  the  frozen  path,  face  alight,  eyes 
glowing.  "  Oh !  Oh !  You  are  too  good  to  me !  " 
Now  there  was  a  liquid  quiver,  like  a  thrush's  note, 
in  her  voice,  and  the  man  caught  himself  wonder- 
ing how  any  one  could  be  harsh  or  unkind  to  such 
a  child.  How  glad  he  was  that  she  had  come  to 
him — that  she  belonged  to  him  now ! 

"  Don't !  Oh,  please  don't  tell  me  what  is  in 
it !  "  she  cried,  interrupting  him  as  he  was  about 
to  speak.  "  I  never  had  anything  so  delightful  and 
mysterious  happen,to  me  before.  Oh,  I  am  almost 
too  excited  to  live !  Isn't  it  an  exquisite  feeling  to 
have  a  box  right  before  one's  eyes  fairly  bursting 
with  some  wonderful  surprise?  And  not  be  able 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         59 

to  even  imagine  what  is  inside  it !  Oh !  Oh !  "  She 
was  all  a-tremble  with  excitement. 

Rodney  smiled  boyishly.  "  How  glad  I  am  to 
have  her !  "  he  said  to  himself. 

"  I'd  take  it  inside  and  open  it  if  I  were  you," 
he  said  aloud. 

Joan  drew  a  long,  quivering  breath  of  delight. 

Rodney  caught  the  box  up  with  one  hand  and 
held  the  other  out  to  the  child. 

"  Come  on  inside;  there  is  another  surprise  for 
you." 

"  Another !  I  never  was  so  thrilled  in  all  my 
life." 

Safely  inside  the  library,  Rodney  gravely  handed 
her  the  adoption  papers  and  turned  away  while  she 
read  them. 

"  Will  you  pinch  me,  please  ?  " 

"Pinch  you?  What  for?"  he  demanded,  turn- 
ing to  face  the  radiant-faced  child  with  just  a  shade 
of  doubt  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  want  to  be  perfectly  sure  I  am  not  dreaming. 
Mrs.  Pepper  said  once  I'd  go  batty  some  day  if  I 
didn't  keep  my  head  down  out  of  the  clouds  more." 

Rodney  smiled.  "  You  are  not  dreaming,  little 
girl.  My  little  girl,"  he  added,  tenderly. 

The  child  flew  to  him  and  stood  on  tiptoe  to  fling 
vehement  arms  about  his  neck. 


60         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I  am  almost  too  happy  to  live,"  she  sobbed. 

"Well,  I  never!"  Prudence  White  ejaculated. 

Neither  Rodney  nor  Joan  had  heard  her  enter 
the  room. 

"  Suppose  she  told  you  that  I  said  her  tongue 
was  too  long,"  she  sniffed  at  Rodney. 

"  No,  Aunt  Prue.  She's  crying  for  joy,  poor 
little  kid." 

"  Humph !    Funny  thing  to  cry  over." 

"  Didn't — you — ever — cry — for — joy?  "  Joan 
spoke  each  word  between  long,  quivering  breaths, 
while  Rodney  held  her  close  to  him. 

"  Certainly  not,"  snapped  Prudence. 

"  Well — you've  missed — a  lot  of  thrills — if  you 
haven't,"  Joan  quavered. 

"  I  have  never  hunted  thrills,"  retorted  Prudence. 
"  And  if  you  are  through  crying  all  over  Rodney's 
fresh-ironed  shirt  front  I'd  like  to  have  his  atten- 
tion long  enough  for  him  to  tell  me  what  clothes 
he  wants  to  take  to  California." 

Joan  sprang  away  from  Rodney,  and  for  an  in- 
stant her  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"Peppery,  ain't  you?"  Prudence  snorted. 

"  Aunt  Prue,  I  want  you  and  Joan  to  be  friends," 
Rodney  said,  gravely.  "  I  have  just  legally  adopted 
her,  and  I  want,  if  possible,  to  make  her  forget 
the  past  unkindness  of  the  world  toward  her." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         61 

"  Please  let  us  be  friends,"  Joan  said,  shyly.  "  I 
am  peppery,"  she  added,  frankly,  "  but  I  am  also 
endowed  with  intelligence  and  shall  endeavor  never 
to  cross  you  since  I  am  to  live  with  him."  Her 
eyes  met  Rodney's  amused  glance,  a  wealth  of  grati- 
tude in  their  blue  depths. 

"  Intelligence,  pouff !  "  snorted  Prudence.  "  You 
may  be  smart  enough,  but  I  doubt  if  you  even  know 
the  meaning  of  intelligence." 

"  I  do,"  Joan  flashed.  "  According  to  the  dic- 
tionary, intelligence  means  '  a  capacity  to  know  or 
understand.'  I  looked  it  up  one  day  when  Miss 
Kent  at  the  asylum  told  a  lady  that  although  I  was 
not  pretty  I  was  endowed  with  intelligence.  And 
after  I  went  to  Miss  Warren's  I  learned  the  Chris- 
tian Science  statement  of  it :  '  Intelligence  is  om- 
niscience, omnipresence,  and  omnipotence.  It  is  the 
Infinite  Mind — the  triune  Principle,  or  Love, 
Truth,  and  ' " 

"Stop!"  commanded  Prudence,  her  voice  quiv- 
ering with  outraged  indignation.  "  Didn't  I  tell 
you  never  to  talk  that  heresy  around  me  again  ?  " 
Prudence's  eyes  flashed  threateningly. 

"  It  is  not  heresy,"  Joan  began,  eagerly,  "  or  at 
least  I  don't  believe  it  is,"  she  added,  honestly. 
"  If  heresy  is  such  a  terrible  thing  as  one  would 
suppose  it  to  be  from  your  attitude  toward  it,  it  sim- 


62         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ply  can't  be  heresy.  I  regret  that  I  do  not  know 
the  meaning  of  heresy,  but  Miss  Warren  was  a 
very  earnest  Christian,  and  she  would  not  believe 
in  anything  so  very  dreadful  and  she  certainly  was 
a  firm  believer  in  Christian  Science.  Of  course 
she  did  not  believe  in  the  devil,  as  some  people  do, 
which  seemed  very  strange  to  me  when  I  first  went 
there.  I  had  always  been  told  that  there  was  a  devil 
and  a  hell,  too,  and  I  know  the  Bible  speaks  of  both 
the  devil  and  hell,  but  Miss  Warren  understood  the 
Bible  differently  from  the  other  people  I  have 
known.  She  says  few  people  understand  the  Bible 
properly  and " 

"  Will  you  stop  her  ?  "  Prudence  turned  on  Rod- 
ney, and  her  voice  trembled  with  rage. 

Rodney  turned  away  to  hide  his  twitching  lips. 

"  Suppose  you  take  your  surprise  upstairs  to 
your  room,  Joan,  and  see  if  you  can  make  use 
of  it." 

"  I've  done  the  wrong  thing  again,"  Joan  cried, 
with  a  crestfallen  air.  "  I  am  about  as  much  at 
home  with  her  as  a  coon  is  at  church,  but  I'll  try 
to  please  her  for  your  sake.  If  she  does  not  care 
to  hear  about  Miss  Warren  and  her  belief  I  shall 
try  exceedingly  hard  to  remember  never  to  mention 
them  in  her  presence,"  she  said,  pathetically. 

When  the  child  had  gone,  Prudence  gave  Rod- 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         63 

ney  a  clear  and  concise  report  of  Joan's  conversa- 
tion earlier  in  the  day. 

"  She  certainly  is  an  interesting  little  thing," 
Rodney  said,  trying  to  conceal  his  mirth.  "  And 
I  am  more  than  glad  she  came  to  me  last  night,"  he 
added,  gravely. 

Prudence  sniffed.  "  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is, 
you've  got  your  hands  full.  I  am  sure  I  never  in 
all  my  life  saw  nor  heard  anything  equal  her." 

Rodney  smiled,  and  Prudence,  with  an  irritating 
sense  of  having  wasted  words  and  breath,  launched 
out  into  a  discussion  of  the  things  to  pack  for  the 
California  trip,  which  to  her  was  an  almost  ungodly 
act  of  foolishness.  She  intended  to  accompany  her 
nephew  from  an  acknowledged  sense  of  duty  and 
from  an  unacknowledged  desire  to  see  more  of 
the  world  than  had  been  revealed  to  her  by  the 
journeys  she  had  taken,  all  within  a  radius  of  a 
hundred  miles  from  Orion. 

Still,  most  clearly  did  she  make  Rodney  feel  that 
her  sympathies  did  not  go  out  readily  to  him  be- 
cause of  an  affliction  she  did  not  understand  and 
in  the  seriousness  of  which  she  did  not  believe. 

Upstairs,  Joan  turned  the  box  over  and  over 
and  looked  at  every  side  and  then  untied  the  string 
very  slowly,  meanwhile  imagining  and  imagining 
what  would  be  inside. 


64        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Joan  was  never  one  to  slur  the  luxurious  pleas- 
ures of  anticipation. 

But  at  last  she  threw  off  the  cover.  Everything 
inside  was  wrapped  in  tissue  paper,  so  that  looking 
at  each  article  was  a  distinct  and  separate  pleasure. 

First  there  was  a  soft  brown  beaver  hat,  turned 
up  on  the  left  side  with  a  dashing  green  quill  thrust 
through  a  gold  buckle — a  band  of  crushed  green 
ribbon  was  around  the  crown.  A  thing  of  joy  was 
that  hat  to  Joan. 

Then  there  was  a  long,  brown  fur  coat.  A  soft 
brown  serge  sailor  suit,  brown  stockings,  brown 
shoes,  and  red-brown  kid  gloves,  and  other  things 
too  numerous  to  mention. 

It  was  a  glowing,  sparkling  Joan  that  appeared 
before  her  guardian  half  an  hour  later  and  even 
Prudence  White,  while  she  sniffed  at  Rodney's  ex- 
travagant foolishness,  as  she  called  it,  had  to  admit 
that  the  child  looked  nice. 

When  Rodney  and  Joan  started  toward  Mrs.  Pep- 
per's, Prudence  admonished  Joan  to  remember  that 
to  be  vain  was  to  be  ungodly.  And  some  way 
Joan's  meek,  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  disappointed  her,  al- 
though she  would  not  have  admitted  even  to  herself 
that  she  expected  more  than  that  very  proper  re- 
sponse. 

As  they  drove  along,  Rodney  guided  the  slow 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        65 

black  horse  abstractedly,  while  he  pondered  over  the 
unchildlike  life  Joan  had  had.  For  Rodney  White 
was  shrewd,  even  though  he  was  a  dreamy  musician, 
and  he  knew  Mrs.  Pepper  and  knew  that  Joan's 
experience  of  drudgery  with  her  was  only  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  drudgery  that  had  been  her  portion  with 
other  shrewish  women. 

No  wonder  the  child  was  so  delighted  with  the 
realization  of  the  long-looked-for  home. 

"  Poor  little  kid !  "  he  sighed,  as  he  looked  at  the 
rapt  little  figure  beside  him. 

As  for  Joan,  she  gave  herself  up  to  silent  rap- 
ture over  the  beauties  of  the  day  and  her  own  inner 
joy. 

"  I  don't  care  how  cross  Mrs.  Pepper  is ! "  she 
cried,  as  they  drew  near  that  worthy  woman's  small 
cottage. 

"  I  am  too  happy  and  too  grateful  for  anything 
she  says  to  hurt  me — after  she  acknowledges  I  am 
not  a  thief,"  she  added,  passionately.  "  She  must 
do  that." 

"  She  shall,"  Rodney  said,  gravely,  and  the  light 
in  his  eyes  boded  no  good  for  Mrs.  Pepper  if  she 
did  not  acknowledge  her  wrong  very  speedily. 

Mrs.  Pepper  did  not  at  first  recognize  Joan,  but 
when  she  had  grasped  the  important  fact  of  Joan's 
good  fortune  she  readily  admitted  that  her  son,  Jim, 


66        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

had  confessed  taking  the  money  soon  after  Joan's 
abrupt  departure  the  night  before. 

But  the  woman  demurred  when  Joan  asked  for 
her  modest  grip,  which,  as  she  had  naively  told 
Rodney,  held  all  that  she  owned  in  the  world, 
namely,  one  Bible,  one  book  of  fairy  tales,  a 
few  skimpy  clothes,  and  the  precious  marriage 
certificate. 

"  Kindly  get  my  ward's  belongings  or  let  her  get 
them,"  Rodney  demanded,  tensely. 

"  But  I  really  ought  to  have  damages  for  her 
leaving  me  in  the  lurch  like  this,"  the  woman 
whined.  "  The  baby  is  cross  and  the  twins  are 
croupy  and  I'll  have  to  worry  along  alone  until  I 
can  get  another  girl  to  help  me." 

Rodney  contemptuously  held  out  a  bill  with  a 
brief,  "  Get  those  things  in  a  hurry,  if  you 
please." 

The  sharp-faced  woman  took  the  bill  greedily. 

"  Now,  sign  this,"  Rodney  'demanded,  when 
Joan  announced  that  she  again  possessed  her 
worldly  belongings  intact. 

The  woman  signed  the  paper  Judge  Wheaton 
had  prepared,  at  the  instigation  of  Rodney,  and  the 
paper  legally  bound  Mrs.  Pepper  to  her  confession 
that  Joan  was  innocent  of  her  unjust  accusation 
against  her. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         67 

When  Joan  started  upstairs  to  bed  that  night  her 
face  was  a  glow  of  delight. 

"  You've  given  me  everything — everything  that 
I  have  been  hungry  for  all  my  life!"  she  cried, 
happily,  as  she  bade  Rodney  good-night.  "  And  I 
am  simply  thrilling  with  delicious  excitement  over 
the  very  thought  that  I  shall  see  California  with 
my  own  eyes — California,  the  land  of  my  fondest 
dreams,"  she  added,  ecstatically. 

And  Rodney  White,  looking  at  the  elfin  little 
figure,  fancied  he  could  see  the  thrill  that  ran 
through  her  frame,  from  her  new  shoes  up,  up  to 
the  new  brown  hair  ribbon  perched  jauntily  on 
the  top  of  her  gold-brown  hair.  And  more  than 
that,  he  felt  forcibly  that  the  soul  back  of  those 
luminous  eyes  had  depths  and  measures  he  could 
never  fathom. 

So  the  rapidly  flying  shuttle  of  life  snapped  the 
old  thread,  and  with  new  threads — his  and  the 
child's — began  weaving  a  new  pattern  on  the  tapes- 
try of  time. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Joan,  fully  satisfied 
in  body  and  soul  and  with  a  great  love  for  all  the 
world,  even  Mrs.  Pepper,  went  blissfully  to  sleep 
during  the  same  hour  she  had  spent  battling 
against  the  fury  of  the  wind  and  snow  the  night 
before. 


68         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

And  the  peaceful  Christmas  moon,  treading  its 
predestined  way  across  the  star-studded  sky,  laid 
silver  lines  of  light  over  the  little  town — the  lines 
of  light  on  the  square  white  house  lingering  caress- 
ingly— a  full  measure,  well  held,  because  of  its  per- 
fect note  in  the  anthem  of  life. 


CHAPTER  IV 

OF  all  oases  on  the  great  Colorado  Desert, 
Rainbow  Springs  is  the  most  interesting 
and  the  most  delightful. 

It  has  from  time  immemorial  been  like  a  garden 
of  Eden  to  the  Indians  who  gave  it  its  name.  It 
was  a  delightful  oasis  long  before  the  coming  of 
the  white  men  who  added  to  its  natural  beauty. 

There  are  hot  springs  there,  and  springs,  the 
cold,  pure  sparkling  water  of  which  cannot  be  sur- 
passed in  all  the  world.  The  Indians  claim  that 
the  hot  springs  are  medicinal  waters,  given  by  a 
great  spirit  to  the  chosen  ones  of  their  race  at  the 
beginning  of  the  world.  And  they  tell  a  legend  to 
the  effect  that  in  the  days  of  the  ancient  rulers 
for  many  suns  and  many  moons  seven  rainbows 
hung  in  the  sky  above  the  springs.  Rainbows  by 
day  and  rainbows  by  night.  Radiant  half-circles  of 
colored  light  intense  against  the  splendor  of  the 
sky  by  day.  Pale-hued  on  the  moonlit  background 
of  pale,  phosphorescent  light.  Seven  symbols  ex- 
pressing the  love  of  the  Sun  and  Moon  gods  for 
their  Earth-born  children. 

69 


70         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Some  of  the  older  Indians  claim  to  have  seen  the 
mystic  rainbows  fade  away,  to  the  mysterious  realm 
of  the  great  beyond  where  dwell  the  spirits,  and 
this  on  the  third  hour  after  the  coming  of  the  white 
men. 

And  even  to  this  day,  when  a  rainbow  hangs  in 
the  sky  over  the  springs,  the  Indians  reach  their 
hands  skyward  in  worship  of  the  Sign  of  the  Sun 
and  Moon  gods  while  they  chant  prayers  to  the 
Great  Spirit.  They  end  their  prayers  with  a  moon 
dance  and  great  feasting  and  a  certain  sacred  rite 
which  no  white  man  has  ever  witnessed. 

That  the  nearest  railroad  station  is  fully  seven 
miles  from  Rainbow  Springs  seems  fitting  to  those 
to  whom  the  oasis  is  like  the  great  true  heart  of  a 
mother  with  vast  outstretched  mountain  arms  keep- 
ing guard  over  the  fertile  little  kingdom  ensconced 
in  their  sheltering  embrace. 

But  to  Prudence  White,  made  irascible  by  the 
long,  unaccustomed  overland  journey,  the  little  sta- 
tion, where  the  train  stopped  in  the  early  winter 
dusk,  seemed  little  short  of  an  added  insult  to  her 
already  outraged  nerves. 

The  Indian  who  chanced  to  be  driving  the  buggy 
that  was  to  convey  them  across  the  expanse  of 
desert  between  the  station  and  Rainbow  Springs 
was,  to  her  overwrought  mind,  a  painted  warrior 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         71 

of  the  race  she  feared  and  hated  with  all  the  in- 
tensity of  her  stern  New  England  nature. 

She  did  not  see  the  beauty  of  the  mystic  desert 
moon,  riding  high  in  the  zenith,  spreading  its  bars 
of  light  across  the  sage  and  greasewood-dotted 
sand  and  the  half-revealed,  half-hidden  mountains 
in  the  distance. 

The  serene  desert  stars  had  no  charm  for  her. 
But  to  Rodney  and  Joan  the  majesty  of  the  desert 
spoke,  enthralling  them  by  its  mystery  and  that 
haunting  sense  of  the  unknown  that  is  felt  in  the 
vast  silence  and  solitude  of  a  desert  night.  The 
mystic  light  of  the  moon  touched  Joan's  upturned 
face,  etherealizing  it.  Even  the  stinging  discomfort 
of  the  biting  wind  sweeping  over  them  in  uncon- 
trolled fury  was  not  felt  by  her,  but  Prudence 
White,  on  the  back  seat  of  the  buggy  with  Rodney, 
felt  it;  covered  her  head  with  a  shawl  and  gave 
herself  up  to  bitter  reflection. 

Not  once  was  the  silence  of  the  ride  broken  until 
the  lapping  of  the  water  running  in  the  irrigating 
ditches,  through  the  Indian  village,  could  be  heard, 
and  the  barking  of  the  Indian  dogs  broke  the  sol- 
emn stillness  of  the  moonlit  night. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Joan?  "  Rodney  asked 
the  next  morning  as  they  stood,  in  the  early  dawn, 


72         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

on  the  steps  of  the  snug  cottage  he  had  secured, 
just  across  from  the  Indian  village. 

To  the  left  of  them  lay  the  desert  expanse  dotted 
with  greasewood  and  cacti,  and  with  scanty  grasses 
scarce  hiding  its  anatomy. 

Beyond  lay  the  shifting  sand-hills  with  their  glis- 
tening grains  piled  high,  wave  upon  wave,  from  the 
face  of  the  desert  to  the  ridges  that  seemed  to  meet 
the  sky. 

To  the  right  towered  the  gigantic  San  Jacinto 
mountains,  and  nearer  were  the  low  ridges,  the  out- 
stretched arms  about  the  little  oasis. 

The  man  and  the  girl  faced  the  mountains.  On 
one  of  the  splintered  peaks  of  the  mountain  range, 
half-hidden  in  a  mystic  purple  veil,  the  skyward- 
shooting  flames  of  the  morning  sun  revealed  a  grim 
rock  head,  like  the  stern  visage  of  some  bygone 
Indian  chief — athwart  the  pearly  gray  sky. 

Joan  did  not  answer  Rodney's  question  until  the 
illusion  faded  away,  and  when  she  spoke  her  voice 
was  quivering. 

"  I  love  it !  Love  it !  "  she  cried,  passionately,  as 
she  slipped  her  hand  in  his.  "  No  one  but  God 
could  have  done  it." 

"  No,  little  girl." 

Then  they  both  stood  spellbound,  hand  in  hand, 
for  it  was  given  them  to  see  two  mirages  on  that 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         73 

never- forgotten  day.  The  illusion  of  the  sculptured 
head  of  the  old  Indian  chief  was  followed  by  that 
of  an  ancient  city  with  a  thousand  spires  piercing 
the  sky.  A  city  on  the  edge  of  a  vast  sea  with 
white-capped  breakers  rolling  in  upon  the  shore. 
A  moment  passed,  and  a  mighty  ship  rose  out  of  the 
sea  and  anchored  just  without  the  city  walls — and 
back  of  the  city  on  the  crest  of  a  low  hill  were  the 
crumbling  turret  walls  and  broken  towers  of  a 
castle. 

Slowly  the  second  mirage  faded  from  the  sky  and 
the  quaint  Indian  village,  across  the  way,  lay  bathed 
in  the  full  light  of  the  sun  now  high  above  the 
mountain  peaks. 

The  Indian  dogs,  silent  until  now,  began  clamor- 
ing for  their  morning  meal,  while  out  of  the  Indian 
huts  tumbled  a  horde  of  half -clad  copper-hued  chil- 
dren followed  more  sedately  by  their  elders. 

The  Indian  village  was  awake  and  the  awakening 
of  the  American  portion  of  the  village  followed, 
until  finally  all  the  place  was  astir  with  activity. 

The  tinkling  of  bells  added  to  the  general  medley 
of  the  morning  and  from  the  southern  portion  of 
the  little  village  came  an  odd  caravan. 

An  old  man  was  in  the  lead.  He  was  garbed  in 
corduroy  trousers  and  a  gray  flannel  shirt  open 
at  the  neck.  On  his  head  was  a  broad-brimmed 


74         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

felt  hat  with  a  rattlesnake  band.  Reddish-brown 
shoes  completed  the  outfit.  His  eyes  were  mild  and 
blue,  and  his  finely  chiseled  patriarchal  face  was 
framed  by  a  mass  of  long  silvery  hair. 

Close  behind  the  old  man  were  two  pack-bur- 
dened burros,  with  the  nose  of  the  one  sporting  the 
bells  thrust  against  the  old  man's  shoulder.  Behind 
the  burros  were  three  beautiful  collies,  a  mother 
and  two  half -grown  frolicsome  pups.  At  least,  one 
of  them  was  gamboling  about  its  master — the  other 
limped  decidedly. 

"  Good-morning,  stranger,"  the  old  man  called, 
in  cheery  greeting. 

"  Good-morning,"  Rodney  responded,  cordially. 
To  him  the  old  man  seemed  a  fitting  picture 
against  the  background  of  the  desert  vastness — 
a  note  in  harmony  with  the  general  scheme  of 
things. 

As  for  Joan,  she  was  instantly  down  on  her  knees 
beside  the  injured  pup.  It  had  limped  to  her  as  its 
master  spoke  and  thrust  its  moist  little  nose  into  her 
hand. 

"  I  see  you  are  on  neutral  ground,"  the  old  man 
said. 

"How  so?" 

"  You  certainly  are  a  stranger  here !  "  The  old 
man  chuckled.  "  I'd  even  go  so  far  as  to  wager 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         75 

that  you  have  not  been  here  twenty-four  hours." 
He  spat  reflectively  on  the  sandy  road. 

"  You  are  correct.  I  arrived  here  last  evening; 
but  why  do  you  say  that  I  am  on  neutral 
ground  ?  " 

The  old  man  removed  his  broad  hat,  baring  his 
white  head  to  whatever  stray  breeze  might  deign  to 
come,  for  the  morning  was  already  growing  warm 
with  that  peculiar  desert  warmth  that  follows  close 
upon  the  heels  of  the  dawn. 

He  passed  his  long  fingers  through  the  shining 
silver  strands  upon  his  brow.  The  air  felt  good  to 
him.  He  gave  a  sigh,  threw  his  shoulders  back, 
and  again  spat  upon  the  sandy  road,  deftly  and  re- 
flectively. Then  his  mild  blue  eyes  met  Rodney's. 

As  Rodney  watched  him,  he  was  at  first  amused, 
then  in  some  subtle  way  he  felt  strangely  sorry  for 
the  old  man.  His  face  showed  so  plainly  the  marks 
of  some  mental  strain  through  which  he  had  passed 
and  which  had,  now  that  he  observed  him  more 
closely,  left  a  mark  of  vagueness  in  the  mild  blue 
eyes. 

"  Fine  day,  stranger."  The  old  man  at  last  re- 
placed his  hat  and  moved  as  if  to  start  on. 

Rodney  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  the  old  man's 
shoulder.  "  I  am  much  interested  in  your  state- 
ment that  I  am  on  neutral  ground,"  he  said,  in  a 


76        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

certain  boyishly  winning  manner  that  seemed  pe- 
culiarly his  own. 

"  Forget  it,  lad,  forget  it."  The  old  man  wagged 
his  head  sadly.  "  They'll  tell  you  that  Dad  Sher- 
wood is  cracked,"  he  said,  pitifully.  His  lips 
quivered  and  the  mist  of  tears  in  the  mild  eyes 
made  a  queer  lump  rise  in  Rodney's  throat. 

The  old  man  read  the  look  of  sympathy  aright, 
and  like  a  flash  he  held  his  head  stiffly  and  the  light 
of  a  mystic  shone  for  an  instant  in  his  eyes.  His 
face  was  stern  now,  yet  transfigured  and  illumined 
with  an  inner  light.  The  stern  look  vanished  almost 
as  quickly  as  it  came,  leaving  his  face  beautifully 
gentle.  He  looked  at  Rodney  with  a  tender 
smile. 

"  The  *  Man  of  Sorrows '  will  help  you  bear  it, 
lad;  He  helps  me  bear  my  affliction."  He  tapped 
Rodney  on  his  chest  with  his  long,  tapering  fingers. 
"  Bear  the  disease  in  the  highest  way,  lad.  My 
golden  days  are  past,  taken  from  me  by  the  same 
disease;  but  meet  everything  bravely — meet  every- 
thing bravely,  lad.  I'll  be  going  now,"  he  added, 
with  his  gentle  smile. 

"Prospecting?"  Rodney  felt  a  strange  longing 
to  listen  to  the  musical  voice  of  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  going  out  to  my  mine.  Sometimes  I  find 
it — sometimes  it  seems  to  have  vanished.  That  is 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         77 

why  they  say  I  am  cracked.  Mebby  I  am,  mebby 
I  am.  I've  had  much  sorrow,  lad." 

"  I  hope  you  find  your  mine  this  time,  Mr.  Sher- 
wood." 

"  Call  me  Dad,  lad — call  me  Dad.  I  prefer  it, 
my  son.  I  think  I  shall  find  the  mine  this  time,  but 
I  never  can  tell.  Peculiar  mine,  son,  most  peculiar." 
His  eyes  followed  Rodney's  to  the  burdened  burros. 

He  tapped  the  load  on  the  lead-burro  with  his 
cane.  "  There  is  plenty  of  bacon  there  for  two, 
son.  If  you  could  come  along  I  would  share  the 
mine  with  you,  if  I  find  it  again.  I  like  you,  lad, 
and  the  little  girl  over  there  takes  me  back  to  one 
of  my  own."  He  sighed  and  his  eyes  filled. 

Joan  was  now  sitting  on  the  lower  step  of  the 
porch,  one  arm  about  the  collie's  neck,  her  free 
hand  stroking  the  lame  foot. 

"  Has  a  heap  of  sense,  hasn't  he?  "  The  old  man 
nodded  at  the  collie,  responding  to  Joan's  caresses; 
his  rough  red  tongue  kissing  the  hand  under  his 
long,  pointed,  sensitive  nose. 

Rodney  smiled  his  appreciation  of  the  picture. 
It  had  not  taken  him  long  to  discover  the  difference 
Joan  was  going  to  make  in  his  life. 

"  Burros  have  sense,  too,"  the  old  man  contin- 
ued, after  Rodney  had  properly  introduced  himself 
and  his  ward. 


78         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

11 1  started  out  without  my  water  canteens  once 
— those  are  full  " — the  old  man  indicated,  with  his 
staff,  the  lead-burro's  load  of  water  canteens — 
"  went  two  days  without  missing  the  water — that 
was  one  of  the  times  I  seemed  to  forget  everything. 
Perhaps  I  am  queer  at  times."  He  sighed  wistfully. 
"  When  I  did  remember,"  he  continued,  with  a  little 
reminiscent  smile,  "  we  were  in  the  grasp  of  a  sand 
storm  that  soon  brushed  the  cobwebs  from  my  mind. 
A  sand-storm  is  more  terrible  than  an  Eastern  bliz- 
zard, lad.  And  this  was  the  stinging,  biting  kind 
of  a  sand-storm  that  beats  against  every  exposed 
portion  of  one's  anatomy  more  viciously  than  a  fury 
of  Eastern  hail. 

"  When  the  storm  was  over,  I  found  myself  on 
the  edge  of  the  village  here,  near  my  own  little 
cabin — they  call  me  a  hermit,  lad,  because  I  do  not 
mingle  with  them  any  more  than  I  can  help,  but 
you  and  the  child  shall  always  be  welcome  there, 
my  lad;  but  to  finish  my  story,"  he  went  on,  after 
Rodney's  low-voiced  thanks,  "  the  burro  had 
brought  me  home,  either  because  of  an  almost 
human  sagacity  that  understood  my  condition 
mentally,  or  because  of  its  keen  scent  for 
water." 

He  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead  and,  by 
the  changed  light  in  his  eyes,  Rodney  knew  that 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS         79 

he  had  already  forgotten  the  tale  of  the  burro's 
intelligence. 

"  The  desert  is  the  place  for  reflection,  lad.  You 
have  left  the  world  of  action,  let  the  desert  speak 
to  your  very  soul.  Listen  to  its  weird  solitude,  its 
great  silence.  Oh,  how  I  love  the  grim  desolation 
of  it  all!  I  love  it!  I  love  it!  It  is  God's  land, 
my  son — His  very  presence  is  ever  here."  His  eyes 
brightened  and  he  held  out  both  arms  as  if  to  em- 
brace the  sweeping  sands  in  the  distance. 

"  It  is  a  sublime  symphony — a  land  of  divine 
music.  The  master  musician  has  set  it  apart  for 
a  Mecca  of  strength  to  those  who  can  catch  the 
measure  of  its  majestic  chords  of  splintered  peaks, 
sanded  valleys,  and  hot  skies.  It  has  dawns  of 
many  colors  and  each  color  a  measure  of  sweetest 
music.  It  has  mystic  nights  when  the  moon  and 
stars  hanging  low  touch  the  sands  into  a  song  of 
primal  forces — an  adagio  of  love  and  might  and 
death — an  allegro  of  hope  and  peace  and  life. 
There  is  a  charm  in  the  spell  the  desert  throws 
over  one,  my  lad,  because  it  deals  with  the  Infinite. 
And  from  sun  to  sun  the  desert  is  ever  true.  It 
never  gives  a  false  note  back  to  the  Infinite.  It  is 
true — true  and  sincere,  lad.  Sometimes  the  melody 
it  plays  is  calm  and  serene  like  some  '  Reverie ' 
played  by  a  master  musician  on  some  rare  old  vio- 


80         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

lin;  then  again  it's  like  the  wild  pulsating  throbs 
of  some  gigantic  pipe  organ,  played  by  some  Titan 
musician,  with  all  the  stops  open  and  the  loud  pedal 
on,  in  a  wild  defiant  battle  song.  But  every  note 
rings  true,  lad,  every  note  rings  true.  I  hope  I 
haven't  talked  too  much,"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly. 
"  I'll  be  going  now." 

"  Not  until  I  thank  you  for  your  description  of 
the  desert,"  Rodney  cried,  grasping  the  old  man's 
hand  and  shaking  it  appreciatively. 

"  Aye,  lad,  it  will  speak  to  you  as  it  has  spoken 
to  me.  Good-by  for  a  time,  son.  I  must  be  on  my 
way.  Stay  on  neutral  ground  if  possible,  lad." 

Rodney  checked  an  impulse  to  ask  him  to  explain 
what  he  meant  by  his  reference  to  neutral  ground 
and  the  old  man's  silver  voice  flowed  on.  "  I  think 
I'll  leave  the  chap  with  the  little  girl,  if  she  wants 
him.  He's  a  fine  laddie,  but  I'll  be  glad  to  give 
him  to  her.  That  sprained  foot  of  his  would  pain 
him,  most  likely,  out  there  where  we  are  going.  And 
then  look  at  them,  lad,  they  love  each  other  al- 
ready. Come,  Queen — come,  Prince,"  he  called. 
"  Stay  there,  Don,"  he  added,  as  the  pup  with  Joan 
started  to  come,  reluctantly. 

"  Joan !  "  Rodney  called.  "  This  gentleman,  he 
wishes  us  to  call  him  *  Dad,'  is  going  to  give  that 
collie  to  you." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        81 

Joan  flew  toward  the  old  man,  and  the  pup,  his 
yellow  coat  shining  like  spun  gold  in  the  sunlight, 
dashed  along  beside  her,  his  injured  foot,  for  the 
moment,  forgotten. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  I  am  to  have  this 
beauty  for  my  very  own?"  Joan  demanded,  her 
face  aglow. 

"  Yes,  little  girl,"  the  old  man  said,  gently,  laying 
a  hand  as  light  as  thistle-down  on  her  head. 

In  a  flash,  Joan  was  on  her  knees  beside  the  collie, 
her  arms  around  its  neck.  "  Oh,  you  beauty,  you 
darling !  "  she  cooed.  "  You  are  to  be  mine,  mine ! 
Oh,  I  am  so  happy !  " 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  A  beautiful  sight  to  re- 
member when  alone  with  the  stars,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough  ?  "  Joan 
sprang  to  her  feet,  manners  suddenly  remembered. 

"  You  have  more  than  thanked  me  already,"  he 
answered,  with  a  beautiful  smile. 

"  Oh,  but  I  should  like  to  do  something  to  show 
my  appreciation  of  the  beauty.  Why,  he  is  the  very 
first  live  thing  I  ever  owned  in  all  my  life,  and  the 
dear  Lord  knows  how  I  have  prayed  for  some  liv- 
ing thing  of  my  very  own  to  love.  I  didn't  pray  for 
this  beauty,  though,  for  that  would  have  been  covet- 
ing your  neighbor's  goods,  but  I  could  not  help 
longing  for  one  like  him,  and  Miss  Warren  said: 


82         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

1  Desire  is  prayer,'  so  perhaps  after  all  he  is  in  an- 
swer to  such  a  prayer.  I'd  like  to  think  so,  because 
it  is  such  a  beautiful  thing  to  have  a  prayer  an- 
swered, isn't  it  ?  " 

The  old  man  raised  her  chin  with  the  tips  of  his 
long  fingers.  "  You  are  a  sweet  spirit  come  to 
Rainbow  Springs  to  bring  peace  to  the  hearts  of 
many,"  he  said,  with  the  light  of  prophecy  in  his 
eyes. 

He  turned  after  a  time  to  Rodney  and  held  out 
his  hand.  "  Good-morning,  lad.  I  hope  to  find  you 
much  improved  when  I  return.  You  will  find  health 
here,  lad."  To  Joan  he  said,  gently :  "  The  memory 
of  you  will  go  with  me  like  the  perfume  of  some 
beautiful  flower.  Take  Don  now,  and  if  there  is 
any  cause  for  gratitude  in  your  heart,  pray  for  Dad 
Sherwood  and  be  kind  to  Mona  when  you  start  to 
school." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  old  man  with  his  burros 
and  dogs  became  merged  into  a  distant  speck  danc- 
ing up  and  down  on  the  desert.  Rodney  stood 
watching  the  vibrating  speck  with  a  dreamy  light 
in  his  eyes  until  he  heard  a  heavy  step  on  the  sand 
beside  him. 


YOU   ARE   A   SWEET   SPIRIT   COMK   TO   RAINBOW    SPRINGS   TO   BRING) 
PEACE   TO   THE   HEARTS    OF   MANY." — Page  82. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  /^>l  OOD-MORNING,   I  am  Major  Phillips, 

V   ~W  at    your    service,    suh ! "      There    was    a 

distinct   Southern   tang  in  the  voice   of 

the   corpulent   gentleman   of   military   appearance, 

who  greeted  Rodney  with  an  outstretched  smooth 

white  hand. 

"  You  are  Rodney  White,  I  believe,  suh."  The 
Major  eyed  the  young  man  approvingly,  as  he 
stroked  his  goatee.  The  goatee  and  the  military 
mustache  of  the  Major's  immediately  attracted  one's 
attention  because  of  their  contrast  to  his  hair  and 
bushy  eyebrows,  which  were  white,  while  the  mus- 
tache and  goatee  were  of  raven  blackness. 

"  I  am  Rodney  White,  and  very  much  delighted 
to  meet  you,  Major,"  Rodney  responded,  genially. 
"  This  is  my  ward,  Joan  Worthington,"  he  added, 
his  hand  resting  for  a  moment  on  Joan's  shoulder. 

The  Major  looked  his  surprise  as  he  greeted 
Joan. 

"  Jim  Allison  did  not  mention  a  ward  when  he 
wrote  me  that  you  had  engaged  his  cottage.  I  am 
sure  the  child  will  make  no  difference  to  Allison, 

83 


84        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

though,"  he  added,  hastily.  "  Fine  man  is  Allison 
and  there  is  nothing  like  this  air  for  growing  chil- 
dren, still  it's  strange  Allison  did  not  mention  her 
to  me,"  and  his  bushy  eyebrows  were  raised  in- 
quiringly. 

"Ah,  didn't  I  mention  her  to  Mr.  Allison?" 
Rodney's  voice  suggested  polite  surprise  at  his  omis- 
sion. He  did  not  care  to  enlighten  the  Major  to  the 
fact  that  he  did  not  even  dream  of  Joan's  existence 
when  he  engaged  the  cottage.  He  had  decided  not 
to  tell  any  one  of  his  recent  adoption  of  Joan  lest 
it  prove  embarrassing  to  the  sensitive  child.  He 
had  prevailed  upon  his  aunt,  much  to  Joan's  de- 
light, to  allow  the  child  to  call  her  Aunt  Prudence. 

He  smiled  whimsically  as  he  recalled  his  aunt's 
martyr-like  air  as  she  gave  her  consent  to  become 
an  aunt  by  adoption. 

"  You  have  a  maiden  aunt  with  you,  have  you 
not  ? "  the  imperturbable  Major  continued.  "  I 
could  have  cared  for  you  at  '  The  Sign  of  the  Rain- 
bow/ "  he  added,  reproachfully.  "  I  have  quite  a 
few  guests,  and  it's  a  comfortable  place,  suh."  He 
waved  a  pudgy  hand  in  the  direction  of  a  rambling 
green  building  which,  sprawled  as  it  was  over  the 
Major's  grounds,  occupied  fully  half  of  the  little 
oasis.  "  '  The  Sign  of  the  Rainbow,'  "  the  Major 
said,  pompously.  "  Even  though  you  are  not  my 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        85 

permanent  guest — I  hope  you  will  feel  free  to  come 
over  at  any  time,  suh,"  he  added,  hospitably. 

"  But  I  want  to  caution  you,  suh."  He  stepped 
close  to  Rodney  and  took  hold  of  the  lapel  of  his 
coat. 

"  There  is  a  serpent  in  our  Eden,  suh.  As  dif- 
ficult as  it  may  seem  to  the  newcomer  to  this  beau- 
tiful spot  where  we  dwell  in  peace  with  our  red 
brothers,  the  serpent  is  also  in  our  midst.  Up 
there,"  he  continued,  nodding  toward  the  north  of 
the  village.  Rodney's  eyes  followed  the  Major's 
until  they  rested  on  a  few  small  unpainted  cottages 
and  a  low  roomy  building,  also  guiltless  of  paint, 
flanked  on  the  left  by  a  square  building  painted  a 
dull  drab,  which  later  proved  to  be  the  government 
schoolhouse,  and  on  the  right  by  a  small  red  brick 
church. 

"  The  serpent  lives  in  that  largest  building,"  the 
Major  said,  as  Rodney  turned  to  him  inquiringly, 
after  a  lingering  survey  of  the  building. 

"  The  serpent  is  Sam  Welch,  suh,  and  I  advise 
you  as  a  friend  and  a  gentleman  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  him,  suh." 

Rodney  began  to  understand  the  old  prospector's 
reference  to  his  being  on  neutral  ground. 

"  Sam  Welch  is  a  regular  dog  in  the  manger, 
suh.  A  blot  on  the  fair  escutcheon  of  this  beautiful 


86        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

flower  of  the  desert,  suh."  He  swept  his  arms 
majestically  in  the  direction  of  "  The  Sign  of  the 
Rainbow." 

Suddenly  the  Major  noticed  the  collie  pup  romp- 
ing in  the  sandy  road,  with  Joan.  Across  the  road, 
a  horde  of  dusky  Indian  children  watched  the  dog 
and  the  white  child. 

"  Dad  Sherwood's  prize  collie,  by  all  that's 
holy!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Where  is  dad?  "  he  added. 
"  I  thought  I  saw  him  drifting  out  with  his  outfit 
as  I  came  up." 

"  Mr.  Sherwood  gave  the  pup  to  my  ward,"  Rod- 
ney answered,  somewhat  stiffly.  He  was  glad  now 
that  his  aunt  had  insisted  on  accompanying  him  to 
the  Springs.  He  would  not  like  to  have  Joan  under 
the  constant  espionage  of  the  Major.  To  Rodney, 
it  seemed  a  profanation  of  something  holy  to  call 
an  inhabitant  of  this  beautiful  place  "  a  dog  and 
a  serpent." 

"  Whewee !  "  The  Major  whistled  through  his 
teeth.  "  Why,  Dad  fairly  worships  those  dogs. 
What  made  him  do  it?  "  he  added,  shrewdly. 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  Rodney  answered, 
curtly.  The  reserve  in  his  manner  was  apparent 
even  to  the  Major  and  he  stiffened  perceptibly. 

"  No  harm  intended,  suh.  It  is  rather  strange, 
though,  that  Dad  should  deliberately  give  away  one 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        87 

of  his  dogs.  Off  here,"  he  added,  tapping  his  fore- 
head. "  A  most  pathetic  case  of  mental  aberration. 
Too  bad  !  Too  bad !  He  was  once  a  most  brilliant 
and  successful  pastor  of  a  large  church  in  Mem- 
phis." The  Major  wagged  his  head  solemnly.  The 
Major  ever  loved  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  own 
voice.  "  Came  here  with  two  daughters,  beautiful 
girls,  suh,  believe  me.  They  both  died  the  same 
week,  suh.  The  old  preacher  has  been  queer  ever 
since,  suh.  He  makes  long  trips  across  the  desert 
from  time  to  time.  Sometimes  he  comes  back  with 
his  pockets  bulging  with  gold  nuggets.  At  others 
he  comes  back  half-starved  and  without  a  sign  of 
gold.  Says  he  can  find  his  mine  at  times,  at  others 
he  can  find  no  trace  of  it.  And  even  the  Indians 
have  never  been  able  to  trace  him  to  the  mine." 
Rodney  caught  the  gleam  of  avarice  in  the  Major's 
eyes  and  at  that  instant  read  him  aright. 

"  He  spoke  of  some  one  by  the  name  of  Mona," 
Rodney  advanced. 

"  Ah !  "  The  Major  gave  a  little  deprecatory 
cough.  "  Dad  must  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  suh. 
Mona  is  one  of  his  hobbies.  There  she  is  now,"  he 
added,  pointing  to  the  Indian  children  across  the 
road.  "  The  tall  one  there  with  the  gray  eyes." 

"  Why,  she  is  not  an  Indian !  "  Rodney  cried. 
"  I  understood  there  were  no  white  children  here." 


88         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Half-breed,"  the  Major  answered,   succinctly. 

Some  two  years  older  than  Joan  was  the  little 
half-breed.  Tall  and  slender  and  accurately  pro- 
portioned, with  features  so  perfectly  symmetrical 
that  a  sculptor  might  have  chiseled  them.  Her 
olive-tinted  skin  was  of  a  clear,  velvety  texture,  her 
forehead  broad  and  intelligent,  and  her  hair  fell 
back  from  a  natural  center  parting  in  rippling  cop- 
per-tinted waves.  There  was  truly  little  likeness 
to  the  Indian  in  the  child,  her  eyes  were  large  and 
luminous  and  as  gray  as  Rodney's. 

As  the  men  watched  her  a  slow  smile  crept  over 
her  face,  accentuating  her  perfect  beauty.  The  slow 
smile  was  followed  by  a  soft  wistful  look  in  the 
great  eyes,  which  seemed  in  its  way  to  enhance  her 
physical  charm  as  much  as  had  the  slow  smile. 

"  Jove !  She  is  a  regular  beauty,"  Rodney  ex- 
claimed, with  true  artistic  appreciation  of  the  beau- 
tiful. "  Tell  me  about  her,  please." 

The  Major  chuckled.  "  Her  father  was  a  white 
man  who  came  here  too  late  to  be  fully  restored 
to  health.  Her  mother  was  a  fly-up-the-creek  of  an 
Indian  squaw  with  wonderful  black  eyes  and  so 
beautifully  formed  that  it  is  no  wonder  the  poor 
chap  went  wild  over  her.  They  were  married,  In- 
dian fashion,  a  boy  came  first  and  Mona  followed 
about  three  years  later,  just  about  the  time  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        89 

poor  chap  died.  The  squaw  died  soon  after- 
ward." 

"  Who  cares  for  the  child?  "  Rodney  asked.  The 
story  had  stirred  him  and  he  caught  the  wistful 
light  in  the  little  half-breed's  eyes — a  light  that 
had  escaped  the  eyes  of  the  unsensitive  man. 

"  Old  Cecilia,  the  grandmother,"  the  Major  an- 
swered, in  a  tone  that  indicated  that  he  was  about 
to  end  the  subject. 

"  But  the  brother,  you  spoke  of  a  brother?  " 

"  The  brother  is  a  devil,"  the  Major  snapped. 
"  He  is  a  reincarnation  of  his  great-grandfather, 
Fighting  Wolf,  the  Indian  Chief  who  was  responsi- 
ble for  every  outrage  committed  upon  the  white  set- 
tlers in  the  early  days.  Children  were  never  more 
unlike.  She  is  almost  white  every  way — he  is  all 
Indian.  Mona  attends  school  and  speaks  fairly 
decent  English,  while  Chawa,  the  brother,  runs  wild 
all  the  time.  The  few  days  his  uncle,  the  chief,  Jias 
compelled  him  to  attend  school  have  been  days  of 
trouble  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  I  want  Joan  to  attend  school,  if  possible." 
Rodney's  voice  was  tender  as  he  watched  Joan  cross 
the  road  to  the  group  of  Indian  children  circled 
around  the  little  half-breed.  Rodney  could  almost 
see  the  ever-changing  light  in  the  child's  eyes. 

"  Fine  school  here,  suh."     The  Major's  voice, 


90         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

now  pompous,  brought  Rodney's  eyes  back  from 
Joan  and  the  half-breed  child,  Mona,  who  had  left 
the  Indian  children  and  was  now  beside  Joan  talk- 
ing to  her  eagerly. 

Rodney  wished  that  he  could  have  watched  the 
two  children  longer,  but  said  heartily :  "  That  is 
good,  Major.  What  kind  of  a  teacher  have  you 
now  ?  " 

"  Lois  Reeves  is  in  charge  now.  A  fine  girl," 
said  the  Major,  impressively.  "  A  most  splendid 
young  woman,  suh.  Slightly  afflicted  bronchially, 
but  a  splendid  young  woman,  suh.  Mona  worships 
her  and  the  Indian  children  are  better  controlled 
now  than  ever  before.  There  is  only  one  fault  to 
find  with  her."  He  tapped  his  finger-tips  together 
impressively.  "  She  will  stay  up  there  in  a  shack 
belonging  to  that  viper."  He  spat  contemptuously 
on  the  ground. 

Rodney  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  The  Major's 
beady  eyes  snapped  malevolently  at  the  very  thought 
of  his  enemy. 

"  Rodney !  Rodney !  Breakfast  is  ready,"  came 
the  thin  voice  of  Prudence  White  from  the  doorway 
of  their  cottage. 

Rodney  turned.  "  My  aunt,  Miss  White, 
Major." 

"  Delighted !    I  assure  you,  I  appreciate  the  honor 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        91 

of  bidding  such  a  charming  lady  welcome  to  the 
Springs."  The  Major  bent  low  over  the  hand  Pru- 
dence offered  him  somewhat  reluctantly. 

She  turned  from  the  Major  in  evident  relief. 
"Rodney,"  she  snapped,  "call  Joan;  you  may  be 
willing  to  allow  her  to  associate  with  those  half- 
clad  savages,  but  I  am  not.  Call  her  immediately, 
Rodney,"  her  voice  grew  shrill.  Joan  and  Mona, 
followed  by  the  half-clad  Indian  children,  were 
crossing  the  open  space  between  the  road  and  the 
first  Indian  hut. 

"  Joan  will  come  for  you,  Aunt  Prue,"  Rodney 
said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Joan !  Joan !  "  Prudence  almost  shrieked  in 
her  shrill  excitement. 

Joan  turned  back  reluctantly  after  a  word  or  two 
of  explanation  to  Mona. 

When  Joan  reached  the  little  group  on  the  porch, 
Prudence  was  fanning  her  hot  face  with  her  apron. 
"  You  can  march  right  into  the  house  and  stay 
there,"  Prudence  commanded,  stridently.  "  I  never 
was  so  upset  in  my  whole  life.  Isn't  the  dreadful 
heat  of  this  place  on  a  winter  day,  when  it  ought 
by  every  law  of  nature  to  be  cold,  enough  to  dis- 
tract a  civilized  mortal  without  your  worrying  them 
by  consorting  with  those  terrible  Indians?  We 
shall  all  be  killed  in  our  beds,  I  know  we  will.  It 


92         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

will  serve  us  right,  too,  for  being  in  such  a  place," 
she  snorted,  as  she  turned  to  enter  the  house. 

Joan  followed  after  her  in  apparent  meekness, 
but  Rodney  had  caught  the  flare  of  angry  rebellion 
in  her  eyes,  and  sighed  as  the  collie  followed  her 
before  he  could  prevent  it. 

"  Come  in  to  breakfast,  Major,"  said  Rodney, 
trying  to  cover  his  aunt's  retreat  with  a  degree  of 
cordiality  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

The  Major  accepted  the  invitation  with  alacrity. 

"  I  believe  I  will,  suh.  Your  aunt  is  most  inter- 
esting, suh,  most  interesting." 

On  the  very  threshold  of  the  door  they  beat  a 
hasty  retreat. 

"  Take  that  beast  out  of  here ! "  they  heard  the 
strident  voice  of  Prudence. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Prue,  please  let  the  pup  alone,"  Rod- 
ney pleaded,  as  the  gaunt,  irate  woman  came 
through  the  house  prodding  a  surprised  pup  with 
the  bushy  part  of  the  broom. 

Joan  followed,  a  defiant  little  figure,  her  eyes 
blazing,  her  lips  set  rigidly. 

"  I'll  not  have  a  dog  in  the  house,  Rodney 
White,"  Prudence  snapped.  "  I've  had  my  feelings 
upset  enough  since  I  left  Orion  without  having  a 
miserable  dog  added  to  my  troubles." 

Out  in  the  small  yard,  its  sandy  surface  broken 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        93 

by  a  few  palms  and  some  orange  trees,  Joan  knelt 
with  her  arms  around  Don's  neck  and  her  face  was 
set  and  determined. 

"  Come  in  this  house  immediately,  Joan,"  Pru- 
dence commanded,  but  her  voice  was  less  harsh. 

"  I'll  come  in  when  Don  can,"  Joan  returned, 
spiritedly. 

The  Major  chuckled. 

Rodney  turned  away  to  hide  his  twiching  lips. 

"  Come  inside  this  instant,  Joan."  There  was  a 
cold  metallic  ring  in  the  voice  of  Prudence. 

Joan  stroked  Don's  head  in  studied  indifference. 

"Joan,  please  come  in  for  me;  we  will  give  Don 
his  breakfast  together  before  we  eat  ours,"  Rodney 
said,  softly. 

At  the  sound  of  Rodney's  voice,  the  set,  defiant 
look  left  Joan's  face  and  the  angry  flare  of  light 
vanished  from  her  eyes.  Her  lips  moved,  and  three 
astonished  people  heard  her  say  slowly,  solemnly, 
" '  God  is  Love,'  Don,  and  '  God  is  All.  We  are 
expressions  of  love,'  Don,  and  '  expressions  of 
Love  cannot  hold  angry  thoughts  in  their  hearts.' ' 
She  hugged  Don  close  to  her  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear,  and  the  pup  wagged  his  tail  in 
sympathetic  understanding. 

"  Remember  that  '  God  is  Love,'  Don,"  she  re- 
peated, aloud.  "  And  everything  will  come  out  all 


94         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

right,  because  Love  rights  everything.  Aunt  Pru- 
dence may  love  you  well  enough  some  day  to  let  you 
come  into  her  house  and  it  is  not  right  for  me  to 
refuse  to  obey  Rodney,  so  I'll  have  to  retract  my 
words  spoken  in  unrighteous  anger  and  obey."  She 
pressed  a  rapturous  kiss  on  Don's  silky  head  and 
bounded  toward  the  house. 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry  to  have  refused  to  obey 
you  promptly,  Aunt  Prudence,"  Joan  said,  sincerely, 
as  she  reached  the  side  of  Prudence.  "  You  must 
stay  on  the  porch,  Don,"  she  commanded,  as  Don 
started  to  follow  her  into  the  house.  "  Good  boy," 
she  approved,  as  Don  lay  down  beside  the  door 
and  rested  his  nose  meditatively  on  his  fore 
paws. 

"  Holy  Mother  of  Cork !  "  gasped  the  Major,  as 
he  entered  the  cottage  with  Rodney. 

Rodney  smiled  but  said  nothing. 

Prudence  White,  despite  her  mental  disturbance, 
had  prepared  breakfast  with  her  usual  culinary 
skill. 

"  I  understand  your  not  coming  to  '  The  Sign  of 
the  Rainbow.' '  The  Major  addressed  Rodney,  as 
he  held  his  seventh  hot  biscuit  in  the  air  and  but- 
tered it  with  epicurean  skill. 

"  Miss  White,"  he  turned  to  Prudence,  "  I  have 
not  eaten  such  biscuits  since  I  ate  those  made  by 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        95 

my  old  black  mammy,  in  Virginia.  Even  my  deeply 
lamented  wife,  who  left  me  desolate  and  alone  in 
the  world,  save  for  a  graceless  nephew,  could  not 
make  bread  like  this.  You  have  achieved  here  a 
biscuit  that  would  make  an  angel  long  to  leave  the 
pleasures  of  Paradise  for  the  space  of  time  neces- 
sary to  thoroughly  enjoy  such  a  triumph  of  culinary 
art."  He  eyed  the  buttered  biscuit  with  the  air  of 
a  connoisseur. 

Rodney  looked  from  the  Major  to  his  aunt  and 
was  surprised  to  find  that  which  he  had  never  seen 
before  on  her  colorless,  almost  masculine  face  with 
the  scant  tresses  strained  tightly  back  from  her 
forehead. 

"Could  it  be?"  he  asked  himself.  Yes,  with- 
out doubt  there  was  a  tinge  of  red,  that  might 
safely  be  termed  a  blush,  on  that  stern  face  and  a 
contortion,  that  might  safely  be  called  a  smile, 
jerked  at  the  corners  of  her  thin  lips. 

"I've  cooked  enough  to  know  how  to  make  eata- 
ble bread,"  Prudence  jerked  out,  with  an  evident 
effort. 

"  I  would  that  I  were  in  your  shoes,  young  man." 
The  Major,  with  rare  tact,  looked  away  from  Pru- 
dence, as  he  helped  himself  to  another  of  the  deli- 
cately browned  biscuits. 

Rodney's  face  was  beginning  to  express  his  sub- 


96         JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

conscious  annoyance.  In  some  unexplainable  man- 
ner the  loquacious  Major  rasped  his  nerves. 

Joan  ate  her  breakfast  absently. 

Prudence,  struggling  to  regain  her  wonted  com- 
posure, noticed  Joan's  inattention  to  her  food. 

"  You  are  not  eating  anything,"  she  said,  sharply 
eying  Joan  as  if  she  were  committing  some  serious 
crime. 

Joan  sighed. 

"  I  can't  eat.  Can  you  eat  when  your  spirit  is 
in  one  place  and  your  body  in  another  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  in  that  condition,"  Prudence 
snapped,  glad  to  vent  her  embarrassment  on  Joan. 

The  Major  calmly  helped  himself  to  another  bis- 
suit  and  looked  at  Joan,  a  twinkle  in  his  beady  eyes. 

"  You  are  a  disciple  of  Brahma,  I  suppose?  " 

Joan's  eyes  flashed,  but  she  made  no  response. 
She  did  not  like  the  Major.  Therefore  did  not 
enjoy  being  ridiculed  by  him. 

Prudence  came  to  the  Major's  rescue,  as  a  red 
flare  of  anger  spread  itself  over  his  puffy  face. 

"  Answer  the  Major,  Joan,  or  leave  the  table," 
Prudence  snapped. 

Rodney  started  to  speak  but  the  flash  of  steel  in 
his  aunt's  eyes  warned  him  to  silence. 

None  of  them  were  prepared  for  the  child's  next 
move. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        97 

"  Thank  you,  Aunt  Prudence,"  Joan  said,  gravely, 
as  she  left  the  table.  She  turned  to  Rodney  and 
favored  him  with  an  expressive  wink.  Prudence 
gasped.  She  had  a  baffling  sense  of  a  punishment 
gone  astray. 

At  the  door,  Joan  paused.  "  I  am  not  a  disciple 
of  Brahma,"  she  said,  with  her  head  on  one  side. 
"  In  fact,  I  do  not  believe  in  any  non-Christian  re- 
ligion. I  believe  in  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  God  of 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob,  and " 

"  That  will  do,  Joan,"  Prudence  snapped. 
"  You'll  be  giving  us  some  of  your  heresy  next. 
Please  remember  that  I  have  repeatedly  told  you 
I  do  not  care  to  hear  your  views  on  religion." 

"  Very  well,  Aunt  Prudence.  I  just  wanted  him 
to  understand."  Joan  nodded  toward  the  Major. 
Before  Prudence  could  further  voice  her  wrath, 
Joan  was  gone.  An  instant  later  came  her  joyous, 
"  Come  on,  Don,"  and  Rodney  knew,  as  well  as  if 
he  could  see  her,  the  little  half-breed  would  join 
Joan  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

"Is  she  like  that  all  the  time?"  the  Major 
asked,  his  eyes  still  flashing  angrily.  The  Major 
could  not  bear  to  be  worsted  in  a  matter  of  wits — 
in  fact,  opposition  of  any  kind  always  riled  the 
Major,  and  the  Major  was  an  unforgiving  man. 

"  Like    that,    only    worse,"    Prudence    sniffed. 


98        JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I've  been  more  unsettled  since  we've  had  her  than 
I  ever  was  before  in  all  my  life." 

"  How  long  has  she  been  with  you  ?  "  The  Ma- 
jor scented  a  mystery,  as  he  recalled  the  omission 
of  any  mention  of  Joan  in  Rodney's  letter  to  Al- 
lison. 

"  Only "  Prudence  began. 

"  For  some  time,  Major,"  Rodney  interrupted  his 
aunt,  with  a  glance  she  understood. 

She  scowled  and  lapsed  into  a  sulky  silence. 

"  Ah,  just  so,"  the  Major  returned,  a  velvety  note 
in  his  voice.  Later  he  would  see  the  woman  alone 
and  unearth  the  mystery,  if  there  was  a  mystery  as 
he  supposed.  At  any  rate  he  would,  in  some  way, 
get  even  with  the  child  for  getting  the  better  of 
him. 

"  She  seems  to  know  something  of  religion."  He 
addressed  Prudence  now,  and  his  voice  was  soft 
and  bland. 

"  She  has  read  the  Bible  through  about  a  dozen 
times,"  Prudence  returned,  dryly. 

The  Major  raised  his  eyebrows  in  astonishment, 
as  he  carefully  buttered  another  biscuit.  Nothing 
impaired  the  Major's  appetite.  That  the  biscuit 
was  the  last  on  the  table  and  no  one  had  properly 
breakfasted  but  himself  the  major  did  not  realize, 
or  if  he  did  he  calmly  ignored  the  fact.  The  Major 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS        99 

was  enjoying  his  breakfast.  He  had  what  he  called 
a  "  beast  of  a  cook  "  at  "  The  Sign  of  the  Rainbow." 

Prudence,  with  a  look  of  defiance  at  Rodney, 
gave  an  account  of  Joan's  ability  to  quote  the  Bible 
and  heresy,  as  she  termed  Christian  Science. 

The  Major  laughed  uproariously,  but  Rodney's 
eyes  flashed  more  than  once,  for  Rodney  had,  dur- 
ing the  few  days  Joan  had  been  with  him,  learned 
to  love  the  child  with  a  greater  love  than  he  had 
ever  been  able  to  give  his  aunt. 

The  Major  lingered  at  the  little  cottage  until 
high  noon,  and  Prudence  White,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  left  the  breakfast  dishes  unwashed  while 
she  listened  to  the  Major's  tongue,  which  was  un- 
deniably long  and  much  given  to  intonations  of 
praise  of  himself. 

Meantime,  Joan  and  Mona,  with  the  collie  pup 
at  their  heels,  left  the  village,  bound  for  the  fa- 
vorite playground  of  the  little  half-breed.  Their 
way  led  them  past  the  burying  ground  of  the  In- 
dians where,  Mona  told  Joan,  her  white  father  and 
dusky  mother  were  buried. 

Joan's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  looked  at  the 
graves  marked  by  rude  wooden  crosses  manifesting 
the  influence  of  the  Franciscans  and  the  teachings 
of  their  Church  upon  the  Indians. 

Joan  slipped  her  hand  in  Mona's.    "  I  don't  even 


ioo       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

know  where  my  little  mother  is  buried,  but,  Mona, 
I  just  love  to  imagine  that  like  Elijah,  she  went 
straight  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire  when  she 
left  me.  Don't  you  love  to  imagine  things,  Mona  ?  " 

Mona's  eyes  had  in  them  a  wonderful  soft  look 
as  she  gazed  down  on  Joan's  upturned,  radiant 
face. 

"  What  is  it — this  to  imagine  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a 
puzzled  way.  The  slow  smile,  that  Rodney  had 
admired,  crept  over  her  face. 

"  Imaginations  are  thoughts,  Mona.  Mine  are 
often  wild  and  extravagant,  according  to  Miss 
Warren.  Imagination  is  just  thinking  anything 
you  wish,  whether  it  is  so  or  not,  Mona,"  she  added, 
patiently,  as  the  puzzled  look  still  lingered  in  Mona's 
expressive  eyes. 

"  Ye-es,  imag-i-nation  is  what  I  call  dreaming, 
eh  ?  "  Mona  gave  a  triumphant  glance  into  Joan's 
face,  as  Joan  squeezed  her  hand  with  an  ecstatic, 
low-toned,  "  Yes." 

Joan  had  found  a  much-longed-for  kindred  spirit 
in  Mona  and  was,  as  usual  when  delighted,  quiver- 
ing with  the  intensity  of  her  pleasure. 

"  You  are  a  dear,  Mona,"  she  cried,  impulsively, 
"  and  I  love  you." 

Mona  searched  Joan's  face  with  inscrutable,  seri- 
ous eyes  and  as  she  met  the  wealth  of  affection  and 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       101 

sincerity  in  Joan's  candid  gaze,  her  slow  smile  again 
appeared. 

Then  there  was  silence  for  some  time,  as  they 
left  the  village  behind  them  and  began  the  ascent 
of  the  trail  that  led  up  the  low  mountain  to  Rainbow 
Ridge.  The  old  Indian  trail  is  steep  and  at  times 
so  narrow  that  the  dense  sagebrush  flanking  the 
trail  makes  the  path  difficult  of  ascent.  About  half 
a  mile  up  the  trail,  two  palms  rise  majestically  out 
of  the  rocky  soil  beside  the  path,  and  tower  sentinel- 
like,  one  at  each  side  of  the  steep  trail. 

At  the  base  of  the  twin  palms  Mona  stopped  and 
motioned  for  Joan  to  be  seated  on  a  flat  rock  beside 
the  path. 

Like  some  dusky  young  goddess,  she  stood  and 
gazed  down  on  the  little  village  bathed  in  the 
warmth  and  light  of  the  morning  sun. 

Don,  limping  again,  threw  himself  down  at  Joan's 
feet  and  licked  his  sprained  foot  with  an  injured 
air. 

"  Poor  old  baby."  Joan  gathered  him  up  in  her 
arms  and  cooed  over  him,  while  he  licked  her  hand 
with  delight. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  forgot  your  sore  foot,  Don  boy," 
she  cried,  penitently.  "  So  many  things  have  hap- 
pened this  morning  to  fill  me  with  joy  that  I  am  so 
a-thrill  with  happiness  that  you  would  pardon  me 


102       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

if  you  could  just  imagine  how  full  of  joy  I 
am." 

Mona  turned  and  looked  at  Joan  with  that  won- 
derful soft  light  again  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"  Down  there,  you  said  you  loved  me,"  she  said, 
softly. 

"  Indeed  I  do  love  you !  "  Joan  cried,  sincerely. 

A  dreamy  light  came  into  Mona's  eyes  and  her 
voice  was  as  the  voice  of  a  mystic  as  she  spoke, 
"  The  spirit  of  my  white  father  answered  you  then 
with  love  for  love— I  spoke  not  then  for  the  spirit 
of  my  mother  is  also  within  me  and  her  spirit  is 
the  spirit  of  the  race  that  does  not  give  or  take  in 
haste.  But  here,  where  my  brothers,  the  palms, 
guard  the  trail  to  the  land  where  first  was  seen  the 
seven  rainbows — the  gifts  of  the  Sun  and  Moon 
gods  to  her  Earth-born  children — here,  where  gath- 
ers the  dust  blown  by  the  four  winds,  I,  Mona 
the  half-breed,  pledge  you  my  love  for  all  eternity. 
May  my  spirit  enter  the  body  of  a  wolf  if  that  love 
ever  fails."  She  stood  there,  exalted,  beautiful, 
with  her  hands  raised  high  above  her  head. 

"Oh,  Mona!  Mona!  how  beautiful,"  Joan  cried, 
springing  to  her  feet  and  bestowing  an  ardent  kiss 
on  Mona's  red  lips. 

"  Pledge  first  thy  lasting  love,"  Mona  said,  with 
a  stern  note  in  her  liquid  voice. 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       103 

"  I  pledge  you  by  the  four  winds,"  obeyed  the 
rapt  Joan.  She  was  thoroughly  reveling  in  Mona's 
somewhat  tragic  declaration  of  eternal  friendship. 
It  appealed  to  the  dramatic  instinct  in  her. 

"  And — and  may  my  spirit  enter  the  body  of  a 
swine  if  my  love  ever  fails,"  she  canted,  solemnly. 
She  was  secretly  proud  of  substituting  "  swine  "  for 
"  wolf,"  because  of  her  sudden  remembrance  of  the 
casting  of  the  devils  into  the  swine  by  the  Saviour. 

Mona  remembered  and  abode  by  that  morning's 
vow  of  eternal  friendship,  although  it  almost  cost 
her  own  life.  No  less  faithful  to  the  vow  was 
Joan,  but  she  was  never  tried  and  tested  as  was 
Mona. 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  Mona  said  at  last,  and  again 
they  climbed  the  narrow  path  until  they  came 
to  a  large  cave,  its  entrance  half-hidden  by  a  flat 
mass  of  overhanging  rock.  Here  in  the  ancient 
days  many  Indians  had  dwelt,  for  the  cave  ex- 
tends many  feet  back  into  the  mountain-side  and 
in  it  there  are  remnants  of  those  bygone  days  in 
the  shape  of  mortars  hewn  out  of  solid  rock 
wherein  the  Indians  once  pounded  their  acorns  and 
dates  and  mesquite  beans.  Here  also  are  ollas  of 
that  same  half-forgotten  period.  The  ollas  Mona 
kept  filled  with  water  from  a  neighboring  spring. 

"  My    house    of    dreaming,"    Mona    announced, 


104       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

proudly,  as  she  and  Joan  stood  in  the  semi-darkness 
of  the  cave. 

"And  you  share  it  with  me?"  Joan  whispered, 
in  an  awed  little  voice. 

"  With  you,  my  friend,  yes,"  Mona  answered, 
proudly. 

"  Oh,  Mona !  Mona !  truly  the  Lord  has  dealt 
kindly  with  me,"  Joan  returned,  fervently. 

"  What  do  you  call  it?  "  she  asked,  after  a  silence 
in  which  Mona  enjoyed  to  the  fullest  her  friend's 
admiration  of  the  place  that  had  ever  been  to  her 
a  sacred  retreat  from  the  strife  and  disappointment 
that  was  often  her  portion  in  the  Indian  village. 

"  I  call  it  the  Cave  of  Rest,"  Mona  answered, 
softly. 

"  Oh,  let  us  rename  it  in  honor  of  the  day — let 
us  call  it  the  Enchanted  Chamber  of  Peace,"  Joan 
cried,  eagerly. 

"  It  shall  be  as  my  friend  wishes,"  Mona  re- 
turned, with  a  trace  of  sadness  in  her  voice. 

Joan  caught  the  wistful  note  and  turned  and  em- 
braced her  friend  in  her  usual  impulsive  manner. 

"  I  believe  after  all  the  Cave  of  Rest  is  the  only 
name  for  it,"  she  whispered,  enthusiastically. 

She  was  more  than  repaid  for  the  concession  by 
the  grateful  light  that  dawned  in  Mona's  eyes. 

They  sat  down  at  last  with  arms  about  each 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       105 

other,  on  a  flat  rock  covered  with  a  blanket  Mona 
had  brought  there  months  before. 

Don  stretched  himself  out  at  their  feet  and  barked 
and  whined  fitfully  as  he  slept  and  dreamed  of  some 
prehistoric  days  when,  in  another  life,  he  fought 
and  killed  some  savage  wolf. 

Mona  was  a  dreamer  of  dreams,  but  Joan  opened 
up  a  new  world  to  her  that  day  in  the  Cave  of  Rest 
— a  fairy  world  of  mystic  lore. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  Joan  went  to  her  room  that  night, 
Prudence  followed  her. 

Rodney  noted  the  proceeding  with  a 
sigh.  It  had  not  pleased  him  to  have  his  aunt  so 
absorbed  by  the  Major  as  she  had  been.  That  night 
at  supper  a  few  sharp  words  had  passed  between 
him  and  his  aunt  because  of  the  latter's  lecturing 
Joan  about  playing  with  Mona. 

Rodney  was  perfectly  willing  that  Joan  should 
associate  with  the  little  half-breed,  and  had  decided 
the  discussion  in  favor  of  the  two  children  being 
allowed  to  play  together. 

He  liked  the  appearance  of  the  little  half-breed 
and  then  he  had  made  inquiries  about  her  and  all 
the  villagers  spoke  well  of  the  girl.  And  wasn't 
she  a  protegee  of  the  old  minister's?  That  was  cer- 
tainly in  the  child's  favor  with  Rodney.  The  old 
man  appealed  to  Rodney,  and  more  than  once,  dur- 
ing the  hours  Joan  was  with  Mona,  he  had  pictured 
the  aged  minister  out  on  the  desert  with  his  burros 
and  dogs.  Under  all  his  interest  in  the  old  man, 
with  his  burden  of  sorrow,  there  was  an  underly- 

106 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       107 

ing  sense  of  uneasiness  about  him  which  Rodney 
could  not  explain  to  himself.  He  tried  to  shake  off 
the  feeling,  but  it  clung  to  him  not  only  that  day 
but  during  all  the  days  that  followed  until  he  again 
saw  the  old  minister. 

That  afternoon  Rodney  had  met  Sam  Welch,  the 
Major's  object  of  hate,  and  found  in  him  a  man 
more  to  his  liking  than  was  the  voluble  Major. 

Sam  Welch  was  an  attenuated,  sallow- faced  man 
with  iron-gray  hair  and  a  hollow,  mournful  voice. 
He  suggested  melancholy  personified,  yet  Rodney 
liked  the  man.  That  Welch  was  bitter  toward  the 
Major  was  evident,  though  he  did  not  vilify  his 
enemy.  But  in  a  quiet,  sorrowful  manner,  he  in- 
formed Rodney  that  there  was  bad  blood  between 
him  and  the  Major,  because  he,  Welch,  had  been 
appointed  postmaster  of  the  Springs,  thereby  oust- 
ing the  Major,  who  until  the  coming  of  Welch  had 
run  the  village  as  it  suited  him. 

Welch  had  lived  at  the  Springs  five  years.  He 
had  come  there  with  a  maiden  sister  and  an  in- 
valid wife — the  wife  had  passed  away  shortly  after 
his  arrival.  He  had  broken  all  his  ties  to  the  outer 
world  and  since  his  sister  was  content  to  remain 
there  with  him,  he  had  taken  a  sort  of  mournful 
pride  in  staying  where  his  wife  had  died. 

He  invested  his  small  capital  in  a  few  acres  of 


io8       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

land  on  the  north  side  of  the  village,  and  on  this 
piece  of  ground  he  had  erected  a  few  shacks  and 
the  roomy  building  in  which  he  lived  with  his  sister. 
The  shacks  he  rented  at  a  modest  price,  forming 
another  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  the  grasping  Major, 
who,  until  the  coming  of  Welch  had  obtained  ex- 
orbitant prices  for  room  and  board  at  "  The  Sign  of 
the  Rainbow." 

Martha  Welch  boarded  some  of  the  renters  of 
Welch's  shacks,  and  more  and  more  were  Welch 
and  his  sister  gaining  in  popularity  and  number  of 
paying  guests. 

The  Major  railed,  and  threatened  even  the  gov- 
ernment if  Welch  were  not  removed  from  his  official 
position  as  postmaster  and  he  reinstated,  but  he 
railed  and  threatened  to  no  avail.  Welch  remained, 
and  the  Major  hurled  invectives  at  him  and  his 
sister  and  all  those  who  lived  on  his  ground,  until 
Lois  Reeves  arrived. 

The  Major  was  privately  casting  his  eyes  about 
for  another  helpmeet  and  Lois  Reeves  had  met  with 
his  unbounded  approval  for  that  very  desirable  posi- 
tion, until  the  coming  of  Prudence  White  with  her 
art  in  cooking. 

All  day  the  Major  had  debated  between  youthful 
beauty  and  middle-aged  culinary  skill.  He  ended 
the  day's  argument  in  the  favor  of  Prudence,  for 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       109 

the  taste  of  her  bread  was  still  with  him,  besides 
a  shrewd  New  England  woman  like  her  would  mean 
money  for  him.  And  money  was  the  Major's  god. 

With  Prudence  in  his  kitchen  there  would  no 
longer  be  a  ceaseless  string  of  unsatisfactory  cooks 
worrying  him  and  depleting  his  coffers.  That  either 
Prudence  or  Lois  would  refuse  him  if  put  to  the 
test  he  did  not  question  for  an  instant.  The  Major 
never  underrated  himself. 

All  day  his  hatred  of  Joan  had  grown.  The 
mole-hill  of  ruffled  vanity  was  now  a  mountain  of 
vindictive  detestation. 

Ignorant  of  the  fact  that  Judge  Wheaton,  Rod- 
ney's own  particular  friend,  was  Justice  of  the 
Peace  of  Orion,  the  Major  had,  before  he  retired 
that  night,  written  a  letter,  addressing  it  to  Orion's 
Justice  of  the  Peace.  He  had  learned,  by  clever 
pumping  of  Prudence,  that  Joan  had  been  adopted 
by  Rodney  on  Christmas  day,  that  he  had  not  known 
of  the  child's  existence  twenty-four  hours  before  he 
adopted  her,  and  that  Prudence  herself  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  child's  life  before  she  came  to  them  ex- 
cept her  declaration  of  heresy,  to  quote  Prudence, 
which  she  had  learned  at  a  certain  Miss  Warren's. 

The  Major's  letter  won  a  grunt  of  disgust  from 
Judge  Wheaton,  and  the  Judge  immediately  in- 
closed it  in  one  of  his  own  to  Rodney.  In  turn  he 


no      JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

wrote  a  letter  to  the  Major,  scathing  him  for  his 
unmanly  conduct  and  assuring  him  that  in  Joan's 
life  there  was  nothing  but  good  and  that  there  was 
no  taint  in  her  parentage. 

All  this  added  to  the  Major's  hatred  of  Joan  until 
in  time  the  man  became  obsessed  with  his  desire  in 
some  manner  to  vent  his  spite  on  her  or  Rodney. 

But  to  return  to  Joan  and  Prudence  that  second 
night  at  Rainbow  Springs. 

"  Joan,  I  wish  to  talk  to  you  about  your  conduct 
to-day,"  Prudence  began,  stiffly,  when  alone  with 
Joan. 

"  You  mean,  I  suppose,  my  going  off  with 
Mona,"  Joan  returned,  spiritedly.  "  I  thought  we 
thrashed  all  that  out  at  the  supper  table  to-night." 
Joan  was  in  an  irritable  mood.  It  had  wounded 
her  sensitive  spirit  to  be  obliged  to  imprison  Don 
in  the  woodshed.  She  resented  Prudence's  harsh 
presence  at  the  very  time  she  wanted  to  be  alone 
with  her  grief  over  leaving  the  pup  alone. 

Prudence's  cold  eyes  glittered,  but  she  remem- 
bered Rodney's  decision  in  regard  to  that  subject, 
and  snapped  crossly,  "  It's  about  another  matter." 

"  Another !  "    Joan  sighed. 

"  Yes,  another.  Rodney  is  a  perfect  lunatic  over 
you,  and  as  far  as  he  is  concerned  I  shall  have  noth- 
ing more  to  say.  Later  on  I  shall  sympathize  with 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       in 

him  for  the  trouble  he  is  bringing  upon  himself,  but 
just  now  I  am  going  to  let  you  both  absolutely 
alone,  except  when  something  concerns  me  or  my 
friends."  Prudence  almost  blushed.  That  day  she 
had  taken  her  first  peep  into  the  land  of  romance. 
Never  before  had  the  gate  to  that  enchanted  land 
ever  been  even  approached  by  the  opposite  sex  and 
the  Major  had  leaned  far  over  the  magic  gate,  and 
it  was  only  natural  that  his  words  of  admiration 
and  scarce-veiled  advances  of  something  more  ten- 
der had  gone  to  her  head  like  wine. 

Joan's  eyes  flashed  at  the  reference  Prudence 
made  to  future  trouble  brought  on  Rodney  by  her, 
but  she  bit  her  lip  and  forced  back  the  angry  tears 
that  rushed  to  her  eyes  at  the  very  thought  of 
bringing  trouble  to  the  man  she  idolized. 

"  Please  explain  the  other  cause  of  your  anger 
toward  me,"  she  said,  with  a  manner  as  stiff  as 
Prudence's  own.  Her  head  was  tiptilted  in  the  way 
Rodney  had  grown  to  love,  but  her  face  was  drawn 
with  a  look  that  would  have  hurt  him. 

She  seemed  suddenly  old  and  worn,  unchildlike. 
The  continuous  excitement  of  the  day  had  been  al- 
most too  much  for  her  high-strung  nerves. 

"  I  refer  to  the  Major,"  Prudence  began,  severely. 

Joan  threw  herself  on  her  bed  and  shook  with 
a  mixture  of  laughter  and  tears. 


ii2       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"Joan,  what  are  you  doing?"  Prudence  de- 
manded, sharply. 

"  I — I  think  I  am  laughing,"  Joan  responded,  rais- 
ing herself  up  on  her  elbow  and  looking  at  Prudence 
through  a  maze  of  tears.  "  I  am  so  relieved,"  she 
continued,  blithely.  "  I  thought  perhaps  I  had  un- 
consciously done  something  dreadfully  wrong. 
You  see,  I  am  not  cut  the  same  way  of  the  cloth 
that  you  are  and  it's  hard  to  fit  us  together,  but  I 
assure  you,  you  have  lifted  a  weight  from  the  very 
depths  of  my  soul." 

"  Humph !  "  Prudence  snorted :  "  When  I  was 
your  age  nothing  would  have  been  more  dreadful 
than  having  been  impolite  to  a  guest.  I  should  have 
been  severely  and  very  justly  whipped  had  I  acted 
the  way  you  did — and  to  such  a  man  as  the  Ma- 
jor," she  added,  with  a  flush  spreading  over  her 
thin  features.  Prudence  had  actually  blushed  a 
number  of  times  that  day. 

Joan  sprang  from  the  bed  and  faced  Prudence 
with  a  rapt  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Would  it  relieve  you  any  to  whip  me?"  she 
demanded,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  gleaming  eyes 
meeting  the  cold  ones  of  Prudence  with  a  direct, 
unflinching  gaze. 

"If  it  would,  I  assure  you,  I  am  perfectly  will- 
ing for  you  to  whip  me.  I  have  been  whipped  be- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       113 

fore,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  prefer  a  whipping  to 
any  tongue-lashing  that  ever  was  conjured  up.  So 
whip  me,  if  you  wish,  and  then  let  us  forget  the 
whole  matter.  I  believe  in  chastisement  and  then 
forgiveness.  The  Bible  says :  '  Spare  the  rod  and 
spoil  the  child,'  and  I  do  not  want  to  be  spoiled,  so 
whip  away  if  you  want  to,  but  please  do  it  quickly. 
Slowness  in  anything  always  gets  on  my  nerves. 
Miss  Warren  told  me  never  to  acknowledge  I  had 
nerves,  but  at  school  I  was  compelled  to  admit  them 
and  declare  before  a  room  full  of  scholars  that  the 
human  body  was  simply  alive  with  them.  It  is  so 
hard  to  know  just  what  to  believe  in  this  world," 
she  added,  reflectively. 

"  Are  you  through  ?  "  Prudence  demanded. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  it  so,"  Joan  answered,  meekly, 
suddenly  remembering  that  Prudence  was  always 
objecting  to  her  talking  too  much. 

"  I  suppose  I  have  talked  too  much  again,"  she 
said,  contritely. 

"  You've  talked  plenty."  Prudence  was  recov- 
ing  her  usual  composure. 

"  Well,  I  am  sincerely  glad  that  it's  no  worse." 

"  Humph !  "  Prudence  snorted,  as  she  started  to 
leave  the  room.  "  And  as  for  whipping  you,"  she 
added,  with  an  evident  effort,  "  much  as  you  need 
it  at  times,  I  shall  never  lay  hands  on  you.  You 


ii4       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

are  Rodney's  affair,  not  mine,  thank  goodness,  but 
please  treat  the  Major  with  proper  courtesy  next 
time  he  comes."  The  door  banged  and  Prudence 
was  gone. 

"  Dear  Lord,  I  thank  Thee  that  I  am  Rodney's 
affair,  not  hers,"  Joan  murmured,  reverently,  as 
she  began  to  undress  for  bed. 

Rodney  smiled  when  he  heard  the  door  slam. 
He  had  heard  that  same  subdued  slam  of  exaspera- 
tion a  number  of  times  since  Joan  came  into  his 
life. 

He  loved  Joan  with  a  tender,  protective  love, 
and  the  love  he  gave  his  aunt,  while  sincere,  was  the 
manner  of  love  one  ever  accords  a  stern,  unyield- 
ing relative. 

The  Major  called  again  early  the  next  morning 
and  again  ate  and  praised  Prudence's  great  skill  in 
cooking. 

"  Joan,  I  am  going  for  the  mail.  Do  you  want 
to  come  with  me  ?  "  Rodney  said,  quietly,  as  they 
left  the  breakfast  table. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  will  you  not,  Major?  "  he 
inquired,  politely.  "  I  also  wish  to  send  out  some 
letters  in  the  early  mail,"  he  added.  He  was  glad 
he  really  had  some  letters  prepared  for  the  early 
mail,  even  while  he  acknowledged  to  himself  that 
he  would  have  made  some  excuse  to  quit  the  Ma- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       115 

jor's  company  even  if  the  mentioned  letters  were  a 
myth. 

The  Major  excused  himself  pompously.  "  Would 
go  with  you,  my  boy,  if  I  didn't  always  rest  half 
an  hour  after  eating.  I  shall  enjoy  the  company 
of  your  estimable  aunt  while  you  are  gone,  if  I  may 
have  the  honor." 

It  is  needless  to  say  he  was  accorded  the  honor, 
by  Prudence. 

"  We  are  not  pining  for  the  Major's  company, 
are  we,  little  girl  ?  "  Rodney  asked,  smiling  at  the 
child  dancing  along  beside  him,  with  Don  at  her 
heels  barking  and  capering  exuberantly.  The  collie 
had  mourned  for  his  mother  and  brother  and  the 
good  old  man,  his  master,  during  all  the  long  hours 
of  the  night,  when  his  lame  foot  pained  him,  but 
this  morning  the  pain  was  entirely  gone  and  he 
transferred  his  faithful  alliance  to  Joan — an  alli- 
ance from  which  he  never  wavered. 

Joan  immediately  liked  Sam  Welch.  His  mourn- 
ful manner  appealed  to  her  fertile  imagination. 
And  the  placid  Martha  Welch  won  her  heart  with 
a  motherly  hug.  Joan  always  responded  to  the 
demonstrations  of  affection  from  those  she  loved 
as  a  flower  responds  to  the  caresses  of  the  sun  and 
rain. 

"  We  had  a  very  sick  man  over  here  last  night," 


n6       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Welch  announced  to  Rodney,  in  his  solemn  way, 
as  he  sorted  the  morning  mail. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  Joan  demanded,  eagerly.  "  Oh, 
could  I  do  something  for  him  ?  " 

Rodney  smiled  at  her.  "  Go  see  him,  kiddie,  if 
you  wish.  If  you  can  brighten  him  up  as  you  do 
me,  you  will  do  more  for  him  than  medicine 
could." 

Martha  Welch  pointed  out  the  sick  man's  cot- 
tage to  the  eager  child  and  Joan  was  off  like  a 
flash. 

Suddenly  she  darted  back.  "  I  forgot  to  ask 
his  name,"  she  explained,  in  answer  to  the  quizzical 
look  of  amusement  in  Rodney's  eyes. 

"  William  Arth,"  Sam  Welch  explained,  with  an 
admiring  look  at  the  animated  child. 

"  Oh,  what  a  charming  name ! "  Joan  cried. 
"  William  Arth— William  Arth,  William  Arth,  you 
cannot  be  sick  with  that  name,"  she  chanted,  as  she 
bounded  again  toward  the  unpainted  shack  where 
lived  the  sick  man. 

A  thrill  of  excitement  ran  through  her,  as  she 
knocked  on  the  front  door  of  the  little  two-room 
shack.  There  was  something  very  fascinating  to 
her  in  this  calling,  like  a  grown  person,  on  some 
one  sick. 

The  man's  ungracious  "  Come  in,"  brought  her 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       117 

back  to  earth  with  a  little  shock  such  as  one  feels 
when  cold  water  is  dashed  in  one's  face. 

William  Arth  was  a  morose  man  of  saturnine 
appearance.  He  lay  propped  up  in  bed,  on  very 
much  soiled  pillows,  and  scowled  moodily  at  Joan, 
when  she  entered  the  room. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  said,  in  such  evident  cheer- 
fulness that  the  sullen  look  in  a  manner  left  the 
man's  pain-drawn  face. 

"  Shall  I  bring  my  dog  in,  or  shall  I  come  in 
alone  ?  "  Joan  asked,  with  her  hand  on  the  door. 
"  Perhaps  I  had  better  come  in  alone,  it  will  be  less 
for  you  to  get  used  to,"  she  added,  as  the  man  did 
not  answer.  "  Stay  out,  Don,"  she  commanded  the 
collie.  She  smiled  gratefully  when  Don  showed  his 
disappointment  by  a  low  whine,  as  he  obediently 
stretched  himself  out  in  front  of  the  shack. 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  enough  for  this  time."  Joan 
advanced,  with  a  winning  smile,  toward  Arth's  bed. 
"  Besides,  if  Don  were  in  here,  I  might  not  do  all 
I  intend  to  do  for  you,  with  your  permission,  and  I 
am  sure  you  will  give  that,"  she  went  on,  blithely, 
serenely  unconscious  of  the  man's  sullen  silence. 

"  I  have  had  quite  a  little  experience  with  sick- 
ness during  my  checkered  career,"  she  said,  brightly. 
"  I  am  not  exactly  certain  of  what  a  checkered 
career  is,"  she  added,  honestly,  "  but  I  read  of  one 


n8       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

once  in  a  perfectly  adorable  book — the  hero  was 
the  one  who  had  had  a  checkered  career  and  he  was 
perfectly  charming,  and  ever  since  then  I  have  called 
my  career  checkered,  because  it  sounds  so  fascinat- 
ing and  my  life  certainly  has  been  unusual." 

That  the  child  herself  was  unusual  Arth  ad- 
mitted to  himself,  as  Joan  deftly  straightened  the 
front  room,  washed  the  dishes,  and  put  to  order 
the  kitchen,  finally  finishing  her  cleaning  by  thor- 
oughly sweeping  the  two  rooms  with  a  dampened 
broom,  after  she  had  opened  both  doors  and  the 
windows  and  covered  Arth's  face  with  a  thin  quilt, 
to  keep  the  dust  from  him. 

"  Now,  you  will  feel  better  with  something  clean 
to  rest  your  eyes  on,"  she  said  cheerily,  as  she 
removed  the  quilt. 

"  Now,  I  shall  begin  on  you."  She  smiled  at 
Arth  with  a  light  in  her  eyes  that  he  had  seen  in  the 
eyes  of  his  mother,  checking  the  refusal  to  allow  her 
to  begin  on  him  that  trembled  on  his  thin,  colorless 
lips. 

So  Joan,  unconscious  that  the  man  was  in  some 
vague  way  resentful  of  her  ministrations  to  his 
comfort,  chattered  blithely  of  her  enjoyment  of 
Rainbow  Springs,  of  the  Cave  of  Rest  and  Mona 
and  the  dog  Don,  and  of  the  wonderful  Rodney 
who  had  brought  her  to  the  Springs.  She  finished 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       119 

with   a   whimsical   allusion   to   Prudence   and   the 
Major. 

"  I  hate  that  fat  old  popinjay,"  Arth  snarled, 
when  she  mentioned  the  Major. 

"  I  hated  him  yesterday,"  Joan  said,  honestly. 
"  He  seems  just  like  a  big  fat  toad  to  me,  and  yet 
I  know  he  is  God's  child  and  we  are  commanded 
not  to  hate  and  this  morning  I  am  so  full  of  love 
for  the  whole  world  that  I  can  tolerate  the  Major." 

The  ghost  of  a  smile  played  about  Arth's  mouth. 
But  the  smile  was  followed  by  a  scowl  as  Joan 
deftly  slipped  the  pillows  from  under  his  head.  She 
gave  them  a  brisk  shaking  and  returned  them  in 
clean,  fresh  slips  she  found  in  the  dresser  drawer. 

She  finished  the  indignity  by  asking  Arth  if  he 
could  get  up  while  she  put  clean  sheets  on  the  bed. 
"  Those  sheets  are  dreadful,"  she  said,  frankly, 
"  but  you  are  a  man  and  sick  at  that,  so  don't  feel 
bad  about  it.  You  should  have  a  woman  to  take 
care  of  you,  every  man  should,"  she  added,  with 
an  air  of  great  wisdom  that  became  her  well.  "  A 
man  is  so  helpless  when  it  comes  to  the  things  that 
belong  to  the  sphere  of  woman." 

Arth  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  And  when  the 
child  had  gone  into  the  other  room  so  he  could 
dress,  he  struggled  into  his  clothing  with  an  effort, 
for  the  man  was  sicker  than  the  child  knew. 


120       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Joan  whacked  and  patted  and  straightened  the 
bed  with  great  pride;  then  went  back  to  the  kitchen 
to  prepare  a  light  breakfast  for  the  sick  man,  while 
Arth  went  gratefully  if  somewhat  sullenly,  to  his 
fresh,  clean  bed. 

He  ate  the  breakfast  Joan  brought  him,  with  evi- 
dent relish,  while  she  perched  on  his  trunk  at  the 
foot  of  his  bed,  chattering  like  a  magpie. 

Much  to  his  own  surprise  Arth  was  enjoying 
himself.  As  is  the  case  with  most  invalids,  he  liked 
talkative  people  about  him  when  they  were  willing 
to  do  all  the  talking  themselves  without  expecting 
him  to  exert  himself  likewise.  Besides,  this  was 
a  novel  specimen  of  the  genus  feminine — a  witch 
of  vivacity  and  vitality.  Moreover,  to  his  un- 
bounded surprise  he  found  himself  longing  to  tell 
this  child,  that  which  no  one  in  Rainbow  Springs 
knew,  although  he  had  been  there  for  more  than 
half  a  year. 

William  Arth  when  quite  young  had  married 
an  emotional  girl,  with  an  artistic  temperament 
which  he  did  not  in  the  least  understand.  He  had 
always  commanded  and  never  explained.  He  con- 
sidered the  implicit  affection  of  his  wife  a  legal 
duty,  a  sort  of  commercial  article  that  he  had  pur- 
chased rather  than  something  fine  to  be  kept  by 
watchful  tenderness. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       121 

Within  three  years  things  had  come  to  a  climax. 
And  on  occasion  of  his  absence  one  day,  his  wife 
had  taken  her  departure,  leaving  behind  a  curt  little 
note  to  the  effect  that  as  he  did  not  care  for  her  any 
more  she  did  not  care  to  live  longer  under  the  same 
roof  with  him.  The  humiliation  of  it  was  more 
than  he  could  endure,  besides,  in  his  way,  he  loved 
his  wife,  but  he  made  no  effort  at  reconciliation 
and  resigned  his  position  and  went  to  New  York, 
where  his  present  disease  fastened  itself  upon  him. 
He  had  never  heard  directly  from  his  wife,  but  he 
knew  that  her  brother  had  died  shortly  after  her 
desertion  of  him,  and  left  her  a  fortune. 

His  wife  lived  in  the  same  town  as  his  only 
sister,  who,  while  not  a  newsmonger,  kept  him  in- 
formed about  his  wife,  and  from  her  he  learned 
that  his  wife  had  become  a  marked  social  success. 

All  this  Arth  unaccountably  longed  to  tell  Joan. 
When  he  could  no  longer  work  he  had  come  to 
Rainbow  Springs  and  hedged  himself,  by  his  in- 
flexible will,  within  a  barrier  of  reserve.  This  had 
been  gradually  accepted  by  the  people  in  the  village, 
who  had  at  first  made  friendly  advances  to  him, 
until  this  coming  of  Joan  marked  the  advent  of  the 
first  visitor  he  had  had  for  over  four  months. 

The  night  before  he  had  had  a  hemorrhage  at 
the  post-office,  and  in  his  usual  manner  had  refused 


122       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  kindly  offer  of  Welch  and  his  sister  to  bring 
him  home.  He  forgot  the  chattering  child  after  a 
time,  forgot  even  the  food  he  was  eating,  which 
was  the  first  for  nearly  six  months  that  had  not 
been  prepared  in  an  indifferent  manner  by  himself. 

Joan  noted  the  far-off  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Would  you  rather  I  did  not  talk?"  she  asked, 
as  she  removed  the  breakfast  tray. 

"  Keep  on,"  he  growled.  "  I  don't  mind  your 
talk." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  "  Joan  cried.  "  I  think  you 
and  I  are  going  to  get  along  fine  together.  It  is 
such  a  relief  to  find  some  one  willing  to  be  talked 
to.  Rodney  likes  to  hear  me  talk,  he  assures  me 
that  he  does,  but  Aunt  Prudence  is  always  stop- 
ping me  when  I  get  strung  off  on  Christian  Science, 
and  all  I  know,  to  talk  about,  is  a  heap  of  the  Bible 
and  some  statements  of  Christian  Science  I  learned 
when  at  Miss  Warren's,  but  Aunt  Prudence — she 
is  not  really  my  aunt,  as  I  explained  before — calls 
the  Science  statements  heresy.  Heresy  must  be 
something  dreadful  by  the  way  she  acts  about  it,  so 
I  shall  keep  those  things  to  myself  or  at  least  try 
to  until  I  can  learn  the  definition  of  heresy.  I 
haven't  asked  Rodney  the  meaning  of  it,  because 
we  have  been  alone  so  very  little  that  I  have  not 
even  finished  my  expressions  of  gratitude  to  him 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       123 

for  letting  me  belong  to  him."  Since  Prudence  had 
told  the  Major  of  Joan's  recent  adoption,  and  Pru- 
dence had  conscientiously  told  Rodney  of  her  tell- 
ing, Rodney  had  decided  that  it  would  be  best  to 
let  every  one  else  know  of  it  also. 

With  a  patience  that  surprised  him,  William  Arth 
explained  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  heresy,"  and 
each  word  he  uttered  added  to  the  glow  of  delight 
in  Joan's  expressive  eyes. 

"  I  am  so  delighted !  "  she  cried,  as  he  finished. 
"  Don't  it  give  one  a  delicious  thrill  to  find  that 
the  one  we  like  best  of  two  people  is  correct?  I 
knew  Miss  Warren  would  not  believe  in  anything 
bad  even  if  she  might  believe  in  the  unusual  and 
sectarian.  But  Aunt  Prudence  is  so  set  in  her 
ways,  she  is  just  like  a  rod  of  iron.  She  seems 
to  be  perfectly  unbendable,  and  a  stiff-necked  per- 
son is  to  be  pitied,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Arth  nodded.  To  himself,  he  admitted  that  a 
stiff-necked  person  was  to  be  more  than  pitied. 
For  William  Arth  longed  for  his  wife  and  fireside 
joys  of  his  own,  and  knew  that  his  own  stubborn 
will  had  banished  them  from  him  forever. 

"  You  might  try  some  of  your  Christian  Science 
talk  on  me,"  he  suggested  at  last,  with  a  smile  jerk- 
ing at  his  lips. 

Joan  smiled  delightedly  and  began.    She  repeated 


124       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

all  she  knew  of  the  science,  then  added  the  last 
two  chapters  of  "  Revelation,"  "  for  good  meas- 
ure," as  she  expressed  it.  "  I  might  tell  you  some  of 
my  imaginations  some  day,"  she  said,  shyly,  after 
Arth  had  whole-heartedly  thanked  her  for  her  ef- 
forts. "  I  have  a  whole  stack  of  fairy  tales  stored  up 
in  my  mind  and  I've  always  longed  to  tell  them  to 
some  one  with  a  mature  mind.  I,  of  course,  told 
them  to  the  Pepper  children,  and  while  they  were 
perfectly  fascinated  by  them,  they  were  not  overly 
bright,  so  I  could  never  make  up  my  mind  whether 
the  tales  I  told  them  had  any  merit  in  them  or 
whether  anything  else  would  have  kept  those  kids 
amused  just  as  well  as  they  did.  I  have  read  very 
few  books  except  the  Bible,  Christian  Science,  and 
the  fairy  book  I  own."  She  sighed. 

"  It  has  been  my  fate  to  live  with  two  old  maids, 
and  I  assure  you  that  I  hope  it  will  not  be  my  por- 
tion of  sorrow  to  die  an  old  maid  like  Miss  Blake 
did.  Miss  Blake  was  not  like  Miss  Warren  in  the 
least.  She  seldom  read  the  Bible  and  would  never 
allow  me  to  quote  it  to  her.  She  had  me  read  to 
her,  though,  for  three  or  four  hours  each  day. 

"  Some  of  the  books  were  horrid,  all  lally-gag- 
ging,  but  some  of  them  kept  me  so  thrilled  that  I 
could  not  sleep  nights,  but  would  keep  my  head 
covered  and  shiver  and  shake  and  expect  a  ghost  to 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       125 

appear  at  the  foot  of  my  bed  every  minute,  although 
I'd  strengthen  my  fainting  soul  with  all  the  Bible 
promises  of  protection  that  I  could  remember;  but  it 
was  very  difficult  to  remember  any  of  them  when 
the  last  thing  I  had  been  allowed  to  read  that  day 
was  something  harrowing.  Still,  I  like  thrilling 
books,"  she  added,  reflectively.  "  There  was  one 
book  in  particular,  a  book  called  '  She,'  which  I  have 
always  longed  to  finish.  It  was  so  thrilling.  I  was 
about  half  through  it  when  Miss  Blake  was  taken 
with  her  last  illness.  Of  course  I  could  not  finish 
the  book  to  her  and  it's  been  my  fate  never  to  be 
able  to  get  hold  of  that  book  since  then.  It  sends 
nice  prickly  feelings  all  over  me,  though,  just  to 
think  about  it,  and  I  cannot  help  being  sorry  Miss 
Blake  will  never  know  how  it  ended.  She  was  so 
fascinated  by  the  first  chapters  of  it.  Of  course 
I  shall  know  how  it  ended  some  day,  if  I  live  long 
enough,  but  think  how  tragic  it  must  be  to  die  with- 
out knowing  how  such  a  book  ends." 

Arth  roared  with  laughter.  Welch  and  Rodney, 
coming  toward  the  shack  for  Joan,  heard  that 
spontaneous  laugh. 

"  By  gum !  "  Welch  exclaimed.  "  That  man  has 
not  even  smiled  before,  since  he  came  here." 

Arth  could  have  told  them  that  he  had  not 
laughed  before  in  more  than  four  years. 


126       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

He  greeted  the  two  men  cordially.  Rodney  took 
his  fancy  as  Joan  had  taken  it. 

After  that  morning,  much  to  Prudence's  disgust, 
Joan  spent  an  hour  or  more  each  day  cheering  the 
sick  man  and  putting  his  house  to  rights. 

When  feeling  fit,  Rodney  went  with  her,  and 
after  Lois  Reeves  came  back  from  her  Christmas 
vacation,  she  and  Martha  Welch  would  sometimes 
spend  the  evening  on  Arth's  porch,  while  Joan,  with 
Mona  beside  her  and  Don  at  her  feet,  chattered  to 
the  delight  of  them  all.  To  Rodney  and  Arth,  be- 
tween whom  a  sincere  friendship  had  sprung  up, 
these  evenings  were  especially  delightful. 

Meantime  there  took  place  that  winter  an  un- 
usual courtship.  Welch  made  Prudence  a  melan- 
choly offering  of  love,  as  he  understood  it.  The 
Major,  with  desire  for  a  good  cook  and  a  frugal 
hand  at  the  helm  of  his  household  affairs,  courted 
Prudence  with  words  of  flattery  and  honied 
speeches. 

For  Lois  Reeves,  Joan  immediately  conceived  an 
affection  that  bordered  upon  idolatry  and  she  could 
hardly  contain  herself  the  two  days  that  elapsed  be- 
tween the  return  of  the  school  teacher  and  the  first 
day  of  school,  even  though  she  and  Mona,  accom- 
panied by  the  collie,  made  many  trips  to  the  Cave 
of  Rest. 


CHAPTER  VII 

R)DNEY  saw  Joan  start  off  that  first  day  of 
school,  with  a  smile  of  rare  sweetness,  but 
with  secret  misgivings  in  his  heart.  Joan 
was  such  an  odd  child.  He  knew  that  she  loved 
Mona  devotedly,  but  how  would  she  get  along  with 
the  horde  of  Indian  children  from  whom  she  shrank, 
if  they  came  near? 

With  Rodney,  as  well  as  Joan,  Mona  seemed  set 
apart,  different  from  the  full-blooded  Indian  chil- 
dren. Hers  was  a  strange  nature — a  mixture  of 
gentleness  and  fire.  She  might  have  been  the  off- 
spring of  an  innocent  woodland  doe  and  a  flame 
spirit,  but  the  full-blooded  Indian  children  were  the 
ordinary  half -barbaric  offspring  of  a  half -civilized 
race. 

But  things  went  better  that  day  than  Rodney  even 
hoped  for.  As  far  as  he  could  learn  Joan's  be- 
havior had  been  exemplary.  She  came  home  in 
high  spirits. 

"  I  think  I  am  going  to  like  school  here  better 

than  I  ever  liked  it  any*  place,"  she  cried,  joyfully, 

127 


128       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

as  she  flung  her  arms  around  Rodney's  neck,  on  her 
return  from  the  afternoon  session. 

Rodney  drew  her  to  him  happily.  He  had  re- 
gretted all  day  that  his  ill  health  made  it  necessary 
for  Joan  to  attend  an  Indian  school.  Yet  he  in- 
stinctively knew  that  she  would  not  be  worsted  by 
contact  with  any  kind  of  people.  Her  spirit  would 
triumph  over  any  environment,  and  she  would  rise 
true  and  with  a  flower-like  purity  out  of  any  asso- 
ciation. 

"  I  hope  you  behaved  with  some  degree  of  pro- 
priety," Prudence  interrupted  Joan,  in  the  midst  of 
a  vivid  account  of  some  of  the  actions  of  the  smaller 
Indian  children.  Mona  chanced  to  be  the  oldest 
scholar  in  school  when  Chawa,  her  brother,  did 
not  attend.  Her  young  cousins,  Flying  Eagle,  aged 
seven,  and  Marina,  aged  six,  had  come  to  school 
that  noon-day  in  such  scanty  attire  that  Miss  Reeves 
had  been  compelled  to  send  them  home  for  more 
conventional  raiment. 

Joan  finished  her  broken  narrative,  but  with  a 
visible  decrease  of  pleasure  in  it. 

''  Yes,  ma'am;  I  was  extremely  good."  She 
turned  to  Prudence.  "  Our  seat  is  right  by  the  win- 
dow this  way,  and  I  can  look  straight  up  the  road 
here,  and  see  Rodney  when  he  takes  a  turn  in  the 
yard." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       129 

"  Humph !  You  had  better  be  studying  than  ey- 
ing Rodney.  I  should  think  you  would  be  mortified 
almost  to  death  at  having  to  sit  with  an  Indian. 
Rodney  should  speak  to  the  teacher  and  have  your 
seat  changed,"  Prudence  sniffed. 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  am  sitting  with  Mona  by 
my  own  request,"  Joan  returned,  with  a  stiffness 
that  matched  Prudence's  own.  "  Mona  is  not  an 
Indian,  either.  She  is  only  half  Indian,  and  she 
had  a  most  magnificent  white  father.  She  showed 
me  his  picture  to-day,  and  while  the  picture  is  a 
very  poor  piece  of  photographic  skill,  it  portrays  a 
very  handsome  and  romantic-looking  man.  I  adore 
Mona,  too.  She  has  an  imagination,  and  besides 
that  she  is  extremely  kind  to  me,  and  please  remem- 
ber, Aunt  Prudence,  she  is  the  very  first  bosom 
friend  I  ever  had,  and  is  especially  dear  to 
me." 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  Prudence  returned,  dryly,  as 
she  left  the  room. 

The  instant  Prudence  was  gone,  Joan  seized 
Rodney's  face  between  both  hands  and  gave  it  a 
well-meant,  if  somewhat  rough,  rubbing. 

"  Oh,  life  is  so  interesting  out  here!  "  she  cried, 
happily.  "  And  you  are  so  good  to  me,  dear,  dear 
Rodney!" 

Rodney  drew  her  close  in  his  arms.    "  You  are  a 


130       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

witch,  little  girl,"  he  said,  with  a  vibrant  note  of 
joy  in  his  voice. 

Joan  was  a  new  joy  to  him  every  day.  Her  face 
was  so  full  of  an  ever-changing  charm.  She  had  a 
new  face  for  every  day,  or  so  it  seemed  to  Rodney, 
and  the  artistic  element  in  him  was  sufficiently  sel- 
fish to  rejoice  in  the  pleasure  her  irregular  little 
profile  afforded  his  eyes. 

Her  brown  hair  now  caught  the  level  rays  of  the 
sun  dancing  in  through  the  window,  and  showed 
golden  on  the  wind- roughened  curves  of  the  thick 
waves.  Her  face  was  flushed  from  the  wild  run 
she  and  Mona  and  Don,  followed  by  the  horde  of 
Indian  children,  had  made  from  the  school  house 
to  the  cottage. 

She  drew  a  long  breath  of  happiness  as  she 
snuggled  closer  to  him. 

"  Life  is  so  very  interesting,  Rodney,  dear."  She 
sighed,  ecstatically.  "  And  Miss  Reeves  is  so  beauti- 
ful and  so  exceedingly  helpful  and  sympathetic. 
She  said  she  hoped  I  would  continue  to  imagine 
fairy  tales,  except  during  school  hours.  During 
school  hours  she  is  extremely  desirous  of  having 
me  acquire  a  general  knowledge  of  things.  Miss 
Reeves  is  also  exceedingly  well  versed  in  the  Bible, 
Rodney.  We  had  a  long  talk  about  it  this  after- 
noon at  recess.  She  is  extremely  logical,  too.  She 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       131 

almost  completely  shattered  my  faith  in  Christian 
Science.  Although,  I  think  one  should  always  think 
health.  It  makes  one  so  much  happier.  But  Miss 
Reeves  made  me  see  plainly  that  Christ  never  denied 
the  existence  of  disease,  and  I  should  rather  believe 
what  He  says  than  Miss  Warren.  I  am  so  glad  I 
met  Miss  Reeves.  It  is  so  hard  for  a  little  girl  to 
see  things  clearly,  and  while  I  have  a  mind  of  my 
own  [Rodney  smiled]  I  do  not  pretend  to  think  I 
understand  everything  as  I  should." 

Rodney's  eyes  were  full  of  love  and  pride  as  he 
smiled  down  into  the  upturned  face,  with  the  rapt, 
wonderful  eyes. 

"What  subject  do  you  like  best?"  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

"  Geography,"  Joan  returned,  promptly.  "  Espe- 
cially the  California  portion — when  I  studied  about 
California  to-day,  I  imagined  it  was  just  as  de- 
lightful as  eating  a  dish  of  ice  cream.  I  am  so 
extremely  interested  in  it.  Did  you  ever  eat  ice 
cream,  Rodney  ?  "  She  drew  away  from  him  and 
looked  up  into  his  face,  her  level  eyes  scintillating 
with  interest. 

Rodney  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  to  hide  the 
mirth  he  could  not  keep  from  twitching  at  his 
lips. 

"  Yes,  dear,"   he  said  at  last  and  very  gently. 


132       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

It   had  just   dawned  upon  him  that  perhaps  this 
child  had  never  eaten  ice  cream. 

"  Oh !  I  am  so  delighted.  Please  tell  me  exactly 
how  ice  cream  tastes.  I've  read  and  read  about 
ice  cream,  especially  strawberry  ice  cream,  until  I've 
been  so  thrilled  I  could  scarcely  breathe  at  the  very 
thought  of  it,  and  you  are  the  very  first  person  it 
has  been  my  fate  to  meet  who  can  and  will  tell 
me  how  ice  cream  feels  on  your  tongue.  I  know  it 
is  very  cold,  for  the  ice  part  of  it  proves  that,  and 
I've  eaten  loads  and  loads  of  icicles  and  tried  to 
imagine  them  ice  cream,  but  I  always  suffered 
agonies  with  my  throat  afterward.  I  tried  it  once 
while  I  was  at  Miss  Warren's,  and  she  said  my 
thinking  my  throat  was  sore  was  just  another  mis- 
take of  mortal  mind.  I  was  convinced  at  the  time 
my  throat  was  really  sore  because  I  could  scarcely 
swallow.  I  asked  Miss  Warren  for  a  piece  of  red 
flannel  to  tie  around  my  throat,  but  she  would  not 
give  it  to  me.  She  said :  *  It  will  not  do  to  pamper 
mortal  mind.'  Miss  Warren  was  not  stingy,  either," 
she  added,  honestly.  "  She  was  not  even  nigh.  It 
was  a  matter  of  principle  with  her,  and  while  I 
believed  thoroughly  in  the  red  flannel,  because  I 
had  tried  it  often  in  the  past,  I  admired  Miss 
Warren's  adherence  to  principle.  I  read  about 
'  adherence  to  principle '  once  in  a  book,  and  it 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       133 

sounded  so  magnificent  that  I  have  always  remem- 
bered it.  '  Adherence  to  principle  '  is  a  wonderful 
thing,"  she  rolled  the  words  in  evident  enjoyment. 
"  My  throat  was  all  right  next  morning,  and  Miss 
Warren  said  it  never  had  been  sore,  but  I  have  never 
eaten  icicles  since,  for  fear  I'd  imagine  it  was  sore 
again." 

Rodney  got  up  and  moved  over  to  the  window, 
and  looked  out  across  the  sandy  road.  Mona  was 
just  outside  the  gate,  waiting  for  Joan.  His  eyes 
came  back  to  Don,  lying  curled  up  on  the  porch 
like  a  ball  of  gold. 

When  he  again  looked  at  Joan,  she  was  sitting 
on  the  floor  by  his  chair,  her  elbows  on  her  knees, 
her  chin  in  her  palms,  a  world  of  mystery  in  her 
fathomless  eyes. 

"  Joan,  how  would  you  like  to  have  a  party  ?  " 
he  asked.  "We'll  have  one  if  you  like;  there  will 
be  ice  cream,  so  that  you  can  taste  the  real  straw- 
berry article,  and  ..." 

Like  a  flash  Joan  was  across  the  room  and  had 
him  pinioned  by  the  lapels  of  his  coat,  her  hands 
trembling  as  they  grasped  the  cloth. 

"  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney !  How  perfectly  lovely ! 
I  have  longed,  all  my  life,  for  a  really  and  truly 
party.  Rodney !  Rodney !  You  are  so  good  to  me. 
I  can  just  see  myself  asking  Mona  if  she  will  have 


134       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

another  helping  of  ice  cream — Ice  cream ! "  she 
repeated,  shutting  her  eyes  the  better  to  foresee  that 
triumphant  moment. 

"  And  we  will  invite  Miss  Reeves,  too,  won't  we, 
Rodney?  I  love  Miss  Reeves  with  every  bit  of  my 
heart  that  is  not  already  given  to  you  and  Mona. 
She  has  such  charming  manners,  and  I  feel  in- 
stinctively that  she  is  a  kindred  spirit.  Just  think, 
Rodney!  We  are  going  to  have  recitations  every 
Friday  afternoon,  just  like  they  have  in  city  schools 
every  Friday.  Miss  Reeves  says  she  observed 
Friday  afternoon  all  last  term,  although  she  ob- 
served it  by  reading  to  the  children.  She  says  Mona 
is  able  to  recite  very  nicely,  and  she  believes  I  will 
be  able  to  give  something  interesting." 

Rodney  did  not  doubt  but  that  Joan  would  give 
something  interesting  if  left  to  her  own  devices, 
as  he  hoped  she  would  be. 

"  Miss  Reeves  says  that  perhaps  you  will  come 
over  and  listen  to  the  programme,  and  perhaps,  just 
perhaps,  we  can  get  poor  Mr.  Arth  to  go  and  take 
some  real  enjoyment  in  life.  I  had  thought  of  re- 
citing the  last  two  chapters  of  "  Revelation."  I  can 
put  my  whole  soul  in  them,  but  I  say  them  to  Mr. 
Arth  every  morning,  because  he  enjoys  them  so. 
He  says  until  I  came  over  there  the  other  morning 
that  he  had  almost  forgotten  the  very  existence  of 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       135 

the  Bible — can  you  even  imagine  such  a  thing, 
Rodney?  But  now  he  says  he  is  beginning  to  feel 
like  a  Christian  again.  Isn't  that  splendid  ?  " 

Before  Rodney  could  answer,  Joan  was  chattering 
about  the  proposed  party,  but  he  could  hear  the 
silver  voice  of  the  old  minister  saying :  "  You  are 
a  sweet  spirit  come  to  Rainbow  Springs  to  bring 
peace  to  the  hearts  of  many." 

Rodney  called  on  Arth  that  evening  and  found 
the  sick  man  propped  up  in  bed  reading  Joan's 
Bible,  which  she  had  taken  over  to  him  that  morn- 
ing, because  he  had  none  of  his  own. 

Arth  smiled  dryly  at  Rodney,  as  he  held  out  his 
long,  thin  hand,  and  said :  "  I  think  she  is  going  to 
help  me  die  like  a  Christian,  old  man." 

Rodney  pressed  the  thin  hand  sympathetically,  as 
•  he  returned  fervently,  "  The  same  here,  Arth.  If 
I  live,  I  shall  live  the  better  for  her  coming  into  my 
life,  and  if  I  do  not  live  my  greatest  regret  will  be 
that  I  cannot  see  her  grown  and  educated  as  she 
should  be.  She  says  it's  the  dream  of  her  life  to  go 
to  college  some  day,  and  that  dream  shall  come  true 
if  I  live,  although  I  will  not  even  think  what  her 
being  away  even  for  a  day  will  mean  to  me.  Of 
course,  should  I  not  live  she  will  be  well  provided 
for;  I  have  already  seen  to  that.  Shall  I  tell  you 
about  the  night  she  came  to  me  ?  " 


136       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Arth  nodded.  He  had  heard  the  story  from 
Joan,  but  was  content  to  hear  it  from  Rodney 
also. 

So  Rodney  held  the  sick  man's  hand  in  his  tender, 
understanding  grasp  while  he  told  him  of  his  lonely 
childhood,  unbrightened  by  a  tender  woman's  love. 
A  life  void  of  the  demonstrations  of  love  he  had 
craved  all  his  life.  He  told  how  until  Joan  came 
into  his  life  his  whole  soul  was  full  of  love  for  his 
violin.  He  spared  nothing  in  the  telling,  but  re- 
counted the  yearly  custom  of  leaving  the  door  open 
on  Christmas  Eve,  because  his  grandmother  had 
requested  that  it  should  be  left  ajar  every  Holy  Eve 
until  some  one  came  again  out  of  the  storm.  His 
voice  quivered  as  he  told  of  his  farewell  to  his  be- 
loved Amati  and  the  coming  of  Joan  in  answer  to 
its  call.  Arth's  eyes  brightened  when  Rodney  told 
him  of  the  old  minister's  prophetic  speech  concern- 
ing the  child.  He  laughed  when  Rodney  told  him  of 
Joan's  almost  shattered  faith  in  Miss  Warren's  be- 
lief, and  his  eyes  grew  tender  over  the  icicle  episode 
and  enthusiastically  beaming  when  Rodney  told  of 
the  proposed  party. 

"  I'll  come,  old  man,"  Arth  said,  as  Rodney 
started  to  leave.  "If  it's  the  last  thing  I  do,  I'll 
be  there — if — if  I  am  here  to  do  it,"  he  added, 
whimsically. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       137 

While  Rodney  made  his  call  on  Arth,  Joan  and 
Mona  made  their  way  to  the  Cave  of  Rest,  in  the 
early  twilight. 

Some  one  has  fitly  called  the  desert  "  The  land 
of  mystic  silence  and  thin  air."  The  mysterious 
charm  of  it  was  ever  making  its  appeal  to  Joan. 
She  had  not  missed  a  sunrise  since  that  first  mem- 
orable morning  when  she  and  Rodney  had  witnessed 
the  double  mirage.  She  had  not  seen  another 
mirage,  but  she  loved  the  dawns,  with  their  pearly 
gray  tints,  shot  across  'by  flashes  of  blood-red  flames 
of  the  morning  sun  creeping  up  from  behind  the 
rugged  mountains.  And  then  the  softening  of  the 
vivid  red  as  the  sun  itself  soared  high  above  the 
mountains  in  an  opalescent  sky.  How  beautiful  it 
was  when  the  purple  veil  of  coming  night  was 
flung  over  the  dimpling  mountains ! 

But  at  night,  when  the  mystic  desert  moon  rode 
high  in  the  zenith,  Joan  was  filled  with  such  ecstasy 
that  she  could  almost  see  a  vision  of  heaven  itself 
in  the  tranquil  path  of  the  moon. 

On  this  night,  the  hand  of  God  had  decorated 
the  sky  and  the  half-hidden,  half-revealed  desert 
world  with  a  soft  translucent  radiance  so  sublime 
that  Joan  could  only  look  upon  the  majesty  of  the 
night  in  awed  silence,  her  hand  clasped  tight  in 
Mona's,  until  they  reached  the  twin  palms  and 


138       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

looked  back  down  on  the  mystically  shadowed  vil- 
lage. Back  of  the  village  lay  the  desert,  silver- 
tipped,  serene,  and  peaceful,  swept  by  a  cool  breeze. 
The  night  was  a  poem  of  deep  shadows  and  silver 
bars  of  light  laid  lightly  over  the  mystic  land. 

"  I  had  a  mind  full  of  mortal  triumph  and  a 
mouth  watering  for  ice  cream,"  Joan  said  at  last, 
in  an  awed  little  voice.  "  Oh,  I  was  just  full  of 
imaginations  of  how  nice  and  thrilling  it  would  be 
to  have  a  real  party  when  we  started  up  here,  and 
now  I  feel  as  if  the  sight  of  God's  beautiful  world 
is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear.  I'll  never  pine  for 
anything  like  ice  cream  again,  Mona.  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  is  not  wicked  to  long  for  such  things.  How 
can  God  have  patience  with  such  a  small  piece  of 
his  handiwork,  as  I  am  when  I'm  always  longing 
for  something  I  do  not  need  and  such  unspiritual 
things  as  parties  and  ice  cream.  Mona,  dear,  I  am 
so  disgusted  at  myself  at  times,  I  am  so  eternally 
wanting  something  I  have  never  had  before.  Just 
think  what  God  has  given  me  this  past  month,  a 
home  and  Rodney,  and  you  and  Don  and  Aunt 
Prudence.  I  am  very  fond  of  Aunt  Prudence,  even 
though  she  does  not  approve  of  much  I  do.  There's 
another  thing  I'm  always  wanting,  and  that  is  to 
have  her  hug  and  kiss  me  as  Rodney  does.  I  believe 
she  is  softening  at  me  just  a  little  bit  at  the  corners, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       139 

but  she  never  wanted  me,  and  deep  down  in  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  I  do  not  blame  her.  I  am 
perfectly  sure  I  am  not  anxious  to  share  Rodney 
with  everybody,  myself,  but  then  she  does  not  show 
Rodney  any  more  affection  than  she  does  me  in  any 
way  except  in  her  cooking.  She  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful cook  in  the  world,  Mona,  dear;  you  know  that 
by  the  few  things  you  have  sampled,  and  she  takes 
great  pains  to  prepare  Rodney  everything  he  likes 
best  just  as  he  likes  it.  That  would  seem  to  indi- 
cate that  she  loved  him,  but  was  not  built  so  that 
she  could  show  her  love  by  tender  words  and  hugs 
and  kisses. 

"  But  to  go  back  to  the  ice  cream  subject,  Mona. 
I  brought  you  up  here  to  tell  it  to  you,  and  I  am 
going  to  enjoy  your  pleasure  in  it,  and  the  party 
and  Rodney's  pleasure  in  spoiling  me,  as  Aunt  Pru- 
dence calls  his  always  humoring  me  in  every  imagi- 
nable way,  but  I'll  remember  this  night,  and  if  I  get 
to  taking  too  much  bodily  enjoyment  in  it  all  myself, 
I  hope  I  shall  not  be  punished  by  the  Lord  as  he 
punished  the  Israelites  when  they  howled  and  cried 
for  meat.  But  then,  I  suppose  there  is  not  the  same 
danger.  Rodney  is  going  to  give  me  the  ice  cream, 
and  I  am  sure,  much  as  I  deserve  it,  he  would  not 
bury  me  in  it  as  the  Lord  submerged  the  Israelites 
with  quail,  but  just  the  same,  something  out  here 


140       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

in  the  night  makes  me  feel  ticklish  about  it  all. 
Such  happiness,  as  I  have  had  ever  since  Christmas 
surely  can  not  last  forever." 

She  sighed,  and  then  forgot  Mona  and  her  fears 
for  her  over-indulgence  as  she  gazed  wide-eyed  at 
the  beauties  of  the  desert  world  by  night. 

Mona  did  not  in  the  least  comprehend  her  white 
friend,  and  her  only  response  to  Joan's  frequent 
outbursts  was  a  silent  pressure  of  the  hand  almost 
always  nestling  in  her  stronger  one.  Mona  .loved 
Joan  with  all  the  intensity  of  her  passionate  nature. 
The  subject  mattered  little  to  her  at  any  time,  it 
was  the  sound  of  Joan's  voice  and  the  light  in  her 
eyes  that  were  dear  to  Mona.  Now  she  watched 
Joan,  rapt  and  radiant,  standing  there  like  some 
exalted  mystic,  until  the  night  grew  chill,  and  she 
knew  by  the  passage  of  the  moon  across  the  sky  that 
it  was  long  past  Joan's  bedtime. 

"  Your  Rodney  would  wish  you  home  now,"  she 
said  at  last,  very  softly. 

Joan  turned  to  her  with  a  smile,  and  only  one 
of  them  realized  that  they  had  not  finished  their 
trip  to  the  Cave  of  Rest. 

.  Prudence  did  not  approve  of  the  plan  for  the 
party,  but  Miss  Reeves  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
it,  and  helped  Rodney  so  materially  by  suggestions, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       141 

with  such  whole-hearted  joy,  that  Rodney  appre- 
ciated her  all  the  more  before  the  eventful  day 
arrived. 

Lois  Reeves  was  not  a  pretty  young  woman,  but 
she  had  that  baffling,  provoking  modern  beauty 
which  secures  its  charming  effect  by  some  vividness 
of  accent,  and  triumphs  by  some  ugliness  subdued. 
Lois  was  a  charming,  womanly  girl,  with  a  happy 
way  of  winning  and  holding  friends.  She  had  the 
gift,  too,  to  bring  out  all  that  was  best  in  those  with 
whom  she  came  in  contact.  Even  the  stolid  little 
Indian  children  became  less  stolid  and  more  re- 
sponsive under  her  tutelage,  and  they  had  seemed 
an  almost  hopeless  proposition  to  her  when  they 
were  first  ranged  up  before  her  by  their  parents. 

Lois  Reeves  loved  Mona  and  spent  many  hours 
with  her  before  the  arrival  of  Joan,  and  now  Joan 
had  crept  into  her  heart,  and  she  spent  every  possible 
hour  with  the  two  little  girls. 

And  under  her  affectionate  and  wholesome  in- 
fluence Joan  expanded  like  a  flower. 

Lois  had  heard  several  of  Joan's  fairy  tales,  and 
looked  forward  with  much  pleasure  to  the  new 
order  of  Friday  afternoons. 

That  first  Friday  afternoon  Joan  was  thrilled 
with  happiness  and  something  akin  to  fear,  because 
not  only  Rodney  and  Arth  attended  the  school  ex- 


142       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ercises,  but  Sam  Welch  and  Martha  were  also  there, 
and  to  the  surprise  of  them  all,  Prudence  honored 
the  place  with  her  presence,  sitting  bold  upright  on 
the  edge  of  her  chair  between  the  Major  and  Welch. 
The  two  men  were  even  then  in  the  beginning  of 
the  courtship  that  served  as  an  exquisite  bit  of 
amusement  to  Rodney  and  Arth  all  that  long,  in- 
active winter. 

Prudence,  made  conspicuous  by  the  presence  of 
her  two  cavaliers,  had  a  bright  red  spot  on  either 
cheek,  and  scarce  heard  a  word  of  the  mumbled 
lines  spoken  by  several  of  the  Indian  children,  per- 
suaded by  Lois  Reeves  up  to  the  hour  itself,  and 
their  backsliding  spirits  renewed  to  the  actual  effort 
itself  by  Rodney's<promise  of  much  candy  if  they 
would  only  do  as  their  teacher  wished. 

Mona  next  spoke,  very  quaintly,  a  short  piece,  and 
then  came  Joan's  turn  to  render  one  of  her  own 
fairy  tales. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  Joan  began,  her  voice  all 
trembling.  "  Once  upon  a  time,"  she  repeated, 
firmly,  as  she  caught  the  flicker  of  a  mocking  smile 
on  the  Major's  face. 

A  third  time  she  repeated  those  four  talismanic 
words,  then  continued: — 

"  There  were  two  Kings.  One  of  them  was  a 
giant.  The  giant's  home  was  on  an  island  in  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       143 

midst  of  the  sea.  The  island  was  called  '  Rab,' 
because  that  was  the  giant's  name. 

"  The  giant  had  once,  many  years  before,  been 
a  man  of  ordinary  stature.  This  was  before  he 
stole  the  Golden  Butterfly  from  King  Jethone  of  the 
land  of  Jethone.  The  Golden  Butterfly  was  a  magic 
butterfly,  and  enabled  him  to  change  his  stature 
by  making  a  wish.  By  wishes  he  also  raised  up  a 
people  of  giants  about  him,  and  built  by  wishes 
many  magnificent  castles  on  the  top  of  the  mountain 
that  rose  two  thousand  feet  or  more  in  height  in 
the  center  of  the  island. 

"  Now  the  King  Jethone  of  that  time  was  the 
grandson  of  the  King  Jethone  from  whom  King 
Rab  had  stolen  the  Golden  Butterfly.  And  this 
King  Jethone  had  great  need  of  the  Golden  Butterfly 
that  was  his  by  right,  because  he  was  well  stricken 
with  years,  and  the  kings  of  the  surrounding 
countries,  knowing  his  weakness,  were  making  in- 
vasions into  the  outer  borders  of  the  land  of  Jethone. 
They  carried  away  with  them  each  time  more  than 
a  thousand  sheep,  and  horses  and  cattle  too  numer- 
ous to  mention. 

"  At  last  King  Jethone  announced  that  he  would 
give  his  daughter,  in  marriage,  to  the  youth  who 
brought  to  him  the  magic  Golden  Butterfly,  then  in 
possession  of  King  Rab,  the  giant. 


144       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  King  Jethone's  daughter,  Ethelina,  was  the 
most  beautiful  princess  in  the  whole  world — even 
as  fair  was  she  as  were  the  second  daughters  of 
Job.  So  many  youths  answered  the  summons  and 
made  valiant  efforts  to  secure  the  Golden  Butterfly. 
But  none  of  them  were  ever  permitted  to  cross  the 
restless  water  betwen  Rab's  island  and  the  main 
land. 

"  One  day  when  King  Jethone  was  in  the  deepest 
depths  of  despair,  one  of  his  prime  ministers  told 
him  that  a  strange  musician  was  at  the  outer  gate 
of  the  palace  and  wished  to  come  in  and  play  before 
the  King.  The  King  loved  music,  so  he  graciously 
permitted  the  musician  to  enter  and  play  to  him. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass  that  the  musician  was  as 
handsome  as  Ethelina  was  beautiful,  and  as  he 
played  his  violin  all  the  troubles  of  the  King  seemed 
to  vanish  as  by  magic." 

For  just  an  instant  she  hesitated,  and  her  eyes 
met  Rodney's,  in  a  sweet,  grateful  flash,  then  she 
continued. 

"  The  heart  of  the  King  at  last  grew  so  light 
that  he  forgot  the  Golden  Butterfly,  for  which  he 
had  longed  with  all  his  heart  until  that  hour. 

"  When  the  musician  grew  weary  and  rested,  the 
King  bethought  himself  of  the  Golden  Butterfly, 
and  told  the  tale  of  its  magic  to  the  young  musician. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       145 

"  The  musician's  name  was  Romo,  and  when  the 
King  had  finished  his  story,  Rome's  eyes  were 
flashing  with  determination.  He  told  the  King  that 
he,  Romo,  would  bring  him  the  Golden  Butter- 
fly and  win  for  himself  the  beautiful  Ethelina, 
of  whom  he  had  heard  much  in  far  and  distant 
lands. 

"  That  evening  Romo  played  for  the  Queen  and 
Ethelina,  and  to  him,  as  he  played,  Ethelina  gave 
her  maiden  heart's  first  and  last  love,  and  the  Queen 
was  glad,  because  she  greatly  admired  Romo,  and 
believed  he  would  succeed  where  all  the  rest  had 
failed. 

"  Next  morning  Ethelina  pinned  a  white  rose  on 
Romo's  coat,  and  he  started  forth  in  his  quest, 
with  his  violin  under  his  arm.  As  he  journeyed 
along  toward  his  goal,  Romo  played  his  violin 
before  many  and  strange  people,  but  at  last  he 
reached  the  edge  of  the  water  surrounding  Rab's 
island. 

"  A  lone  boatman  rowed  close  up  to  the  shore  and, 
to  him,  Romo  made  his  appeal  to  row  him  over 
to  Rab's  island. 

"  The  boatman  opened  his  mouth  and  showed 
Romo  a  tongueless  cavity  that  proved  beyond  doubt 
that  he  could  not  speak. 

"As  he  dolefully  shook  his  head  that  he  would 


146       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

not  row  Romo  across  the  glittering  expanse  of 
rippling  water,  Romo  girded  his  clothing  about  him 
and  sprang  into  the  boat. 

"  The  old  boatman  said  not  a  word,  but  reached 
into  his  pocket  and  took  from  it  a  crumpled  rose 
leaf.  He  opened  the  rose  leaf,  and  Romo  saw  a 
few  golden  grains  of  fine  powder,  before  the  old 
man  gently  hurled  the  rose  leaf  at  him.  When 
Romo  looked  down  at  where  his  hands  and  feet 
were,  he  could  not  see  them.  He  held  his  hand 
up  before  his  eyes,  but  could  not  see  it,  neither  was 
his  violin  visible,  but  he  could  still  feel  it,  so  he 
suddenly  realized  that  the  old  man  had  made  him 
invisible,  whch  proved  beyond  doubt  that  the  old 
man  wished  him  to  succeed,  so  Romo's  heart  beat 
joyfully,  and  his  soul  sang  within  him  as  the  boat 
bumped  against  the  island. 

"  He  looked  about  him,  and  behold !  the  old  man 
and  the  boat  were  also  invisible,  so  Romo  marked 
well  the  spot  where  he  landed,  with  a  peculiar  stone 
he  found  near  by. 

"  Then  he  saw  before  his  very  eyes  the  giant  King, 
stretched  out  asleep  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
He  took  his  violin  out  of  its  case  and  began  to  play. 
Presently  the  giant  opened  his  eyes,  and  they  were 
so  large  and  fierce  that  Romo  was  exceedingly 
frightened  until  he  gratefully  remembered  that  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       147 

giant  could  not  see  him,  so  he  played  on  and  on 
most  beautifully,  until  the  giant  rose  and  started 
up  the  mountain  in  great  fear  and  much  trembling, 
for  the  violin  sounded  to  the  giant  like  the  voice 
of  many  angels,  and  his  conscience  began  to  prick 
him  sore  because  he  had  stolen  the  Golden  Butterfly 
so  many  years  before. 

"  Romo  ceased  playing  his  violin,  and  followed 
the  King  up  the  mountain.  At  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain the  King  was  joined  by  other  giants,  and  he 
began  to  imagine  he  had  been  dreaming  instead  of 
hearing  music,  and  so  his  pangs  of  conscience  left 
him,  and  he  went  into  one  of  the  palaces  to  a  gor- 
geous dinner  with  numerous  other  giants  and 
giantesses. 

"  Romo  started  to  follow  the  giant  King,  when 
he  noticed  a  great  building  like  a  cathedral.  The 
door  was  open,  so  he  went  in  there.  There  was  a 
great  pipe  organ  at  the  back  of  the  building,  the 
inside  of  which  was  studded  with  precious  stones. 
That  building  was  almost  as  beautiful  within  and 
without  as  the  '  New  Holy  City '  described  in 
'  Revelation/  and  Romo  stood  spellbound  in  silent 
admiration  until  a  man  in  a  robe  entered  from  a 
door  at  the  side  of  the  pipe  organ.  The  robed  man 
seated  himself  before  the  huge  organ  and  com- 
menced to  play.  Of  course  the  man  was  a  giant  or 


148       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

he  could  not  have  managed  to  play  such  an  immense 
instrument. 

"  The  music  was  so  beautiful  and  wonderful  that 
for  a  time  Romo  wanted  to  hide  from  the  splendor 
of  it.  After  a  time  he  could  bear  it  better,  and  by 
and  by  he  began  to  play  his  violin.  He  could  not 
help  it.  The  music  of  the  organ  seemed  to  compel 
him  to  answer  it  with  his  violin. 

"  As  he  played  there  came  out  of  the  organ  a 
beautiful  Golden  Butterfly,  very  large  and  brilliant. 
It  sailed  about  over  Romo's  head  for  awhile,  and 
then  lighted  on  his  violin. 

"  Romo  could  from  that  moment  play  no  more 
in  the  wonderful  building,  and  presently  the  giant 
at  the  organ  ceased  playing,  and  with  a  little  sigh, 
the  Golden  Butterfly  folded  its  wings  and  crept 
into  Romo's  violin. 

"  So  Romo  realized  that  he  had  met  with  the 
approval  of  the  great  spirit  of  magic,  and  the  Golden 
Butterfly  was  his,  to  take  to  the  King  of  the  land 
of  Jethone. 

"  He  hastened  down  to  the  water's  edge  and 
found  the  rock  laid  on  the  edge  of  the  island  to 
mark  the  place  where  he  had  left  the  boat.  And 
it  came  about  that  he  found  the  invisible  boat 
and  the  invisible  boatman,  and  was  rowed  across 
to  the  main  land. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       149 

"  On  the  journey  across  the  rippling  waves, 
Romo  wished  that  the  boatman  had  his  tongue 
again  and  everything  he  wished  for  in  the 
world. 

"  And  it  happened  that  when  the  boat  touched 
the  main  land  that  the  boatman  was  suddenly  visible 
and  so  was  he. 

"  And  even  as  he  wished,  the  boatman  had  a  new 
tongue  in  his  head,  and  he  opened  his  mouth  and 
spoke  to  Romo,  and  thanked  him  for  wishing  his 
tongue  restored,  and  then  he  said :  '  Now  let  thy 
servant  die  in  peace  with  all  the  members  of  his 
body  with  him,'  and  so  he  died,  and  Romo  hastened 
on  to  the  Jethone  country. 

"  King  Jethone  met  Romo  with  open  arms,  and 
the  Princess  Ethelina  was  so  happy  he  had  come 
back  to  her  in  safety  that  she  shed  many  happy  tears 
on  his  manly  shoulder. 

"The  Golden  Butterfly  is  still  in  the  Jethone 
country,  and  when  Romo  plays  it  often  perches  on 
his  shoulder  and  listens  to  the  beautiful  strains  of 
his  music,  while  the  King,  his  youth  and  health  re- 
newed, listens  while  he  and  the  Queen  and  Romo's 
beautiful  bride  rejoice  that  such  a  noble  youth  as 
Romo  restored  to  them  the  wonderful  Golden  But- 
terfly and  their  Kingdom." 

Every  one  but  the  Major  and  Prudence  encored 


ISO       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Joan  warmly.  Even  William  Arth  clapped  his 
hands  with  all  his  feeble  strength. 

Prudence  was  secretly  proud  of  Joan's  manner  of 
speaking,  which  was  truly  dramatic,  but  she  did  not 
intend  to  encourage  the  child  in  speaking  such  pieces. 
Not  for  an  instant  did  she,  at  that  time,  dream  that 
the  story  was  Joan's  own. 

The  Major  would  not  approve  in  any  way  any 
thing  Joan  did.  And  he  glared  contemptuously  at 
Sam  Welch,  who  clapped  his  hands  until  they  were 
almost  blistered. 

As  an  encore,  Joan  recited  the  "  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,"  and  even  Prudence  involuntarily  added 
her  share  of  approval  to  the  applause  that 
followed. 

There  was  an  unseen  listener  there  that  day.  The 
Indian  lad,  Chawa.  And  the  inspired  Joan  touched 
a  chord  in  his  savage  heart  that  had  never  been 
touched  before. 

When  they  reached  home,  Prudence  announced 
that  she  had  a  headache.  "  And  no  wonder,"  she 
snapped,  crossly.  "  It's  enough  to  make  any  one's 
head  ache  to  hear  a  tale  about  giants.  Don't  you 
know  there  never  were  any  giants,  Joan  ?  " 

Joan's  lips  quivered  for  an  instant,  then  she  an- 
swered with  her  usual  spirit. 

"  I  know  there  are  no  giants  now,  Aunt  Prudence, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       151 

but  there  were  giants  upon  the  earth  at  one  time." 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Joan.  There  never  were  any 
giants,"  Prudence  snorted,  her  eyes  cold  and  sharp. 

Rodney  sighed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  there  were  giants  in 
Bible  times,"  Joan  returned,  politely  but  firmly. 
"  Some  place  in  Genesis  it  says :  *  There  were  giants 
in  the  earth  in  those  days.' ' 

"  Joan,  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  Prudence  snapped. 
"  You  spoke  '  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount '  very 
nicely,  and  I  am  very  glad  you  refrained  from  giving 
us  any  heresy,  as  I  was  afraid  you  would,  but  you 
should  be  very  careful  not  to  say  things  are  in  the 
Bible  when  they  are  not."  She  set  her  lips  together 
and  started  from  the  room. 

"  Please  wait  a  minute,  Aunt  Prudence,"  Joan 
pleaded.  Then  she  turned  to  Rodney.  "  Rodney, 
will  you  lend  me  your  Bible?" 

"  It  is  on  my  table,"  Rodney  answered,  inwardly 
hoping  that  Joan  was  correct,  although  he  confessed 
that  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  remember  any 
mention  of  giants  in  the  Bible. 

It  was  a  very  proud,  very  triumphant  Joan  who 
flew  into  the  room  an  instant  later,  with  the  Bible 
open  at  the  sixth  chapter  of  Genesis. 

"  Read  it  for  yourself,"  she  demanded,  facing 
Prudence,  with  her  finger  on  the  fourth  verse. 


152       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Prudence  read,  then  without  a  word  left  the  room, 
her  head  high  in  the  air. 

Her  conscience  forced  her  to  return  a  moment 
later. 

"  You  are  correct,  Joan,"  she  said,  stiffly,  "  but  I 
do  not  approve  of  that  tale  of  yours,  just  the 
same." 

Prudence  never  did  approve  of  Joan's  fairy  tales, 
but  Rodney  did,  and  that  was  all-sufficient  for  Joan. 
And  each  day  Rodney  asked  himself  which  Joan 
he  loved  best.  The  dreamy-eyed  Joan  of  the  story- 
telling hour,  for  Joan  told  Rodney  and  Arth  fairy 
tales  of  her  own  making  every  night  after  that,  or 
the  will-o'-the-wisp  Joan  flying  over  the  desert  with 
Mona  and  Don. 

Joan  invited  the  Major  to  her  party,  but  he  re- 
fused very  stiffly,  saying :  "  I  don't  eat  with  half- 
breeds  and  serpents." 

"  Eating  with  Mona  and  Mr.  Welch  would  not 
hurt  you,  I  am  sure,"  Joan  flashed  back  at  him,  add- 
ing to  his  store  of  hatred  of  her.  "  Jesus  ate  with 
Zaccheus,  and  Zaccheus  was  a  sinner,  and  I  am  sure 
Mona  and  Mr.  Welch  are  no  more  sinners  than  you 
are,  and  if  Jesus  could  eat  with  publicans  and  sin- 
ners, you  surely  could  eat  with  Mr.  Welch  and 
Mona,  but  I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  you  to  come 
unless  you  wish  to,"  she  added,  and  was  gone  before 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       153 

the  Major  could  make  a  sufficiently  bitter  retort. 
So  the  Major  was  not  at  the  party,  although  several 
of  his  paying  guests  were  there,  and  no  one  missed 
the  Major,  unless  perchance  Prudence  did,  but  that 
is  difficult  to  imagine  since  Welch  was  so  mournfully 
attentive  to  her  that  no  one  else  had  more  than  a 
passing  chance  to  speak  to  her. 

In  spite  of  her  resolve  not  to  be  too  much  thrilled 
by  the  party  and  other  mortal  enjoyments,  Joan 
was  so  afire  with  excitement  that  she  was  like 
some  beautiful  winged  thing,  and  Rodney  and  Arth 
and  Lois  smiled  more  than  once  at  her  sheer  ex- 
uberance of  childish  joy. 

Chawa,  whom  all  the  Indians,  and  even  Mona, 
thought  to  be  somewhere  out  on  the  desert,  where 
he  spent  more  than  half  his  time,  in  the  Major's 
pay,  searching  for  the  old  minister's  mysterious 
mines,  looked  on  the  happy  party  from  his  post 
of  vantage,  in  the  shady  crotch  of  a  huge  pepper 
tree  that  spread  itself  in  feathery  beauty  over  the 
northern  half  of  the  porch,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  Chawa's  savage  existence,  he  felt  a  strange  long- 
ing to  be  one  of  the  happy  group  he  looked  upon. 
It  was  the  first  struggle  of  the  spirit  of  his  white 
father  pitted  against  the  more  pronounced  spirit 
of  his  great-grandfather,  Fighting  Wolf. 

Joan  went  to  her  bed  that  night,  so  athrill  with 


i$4       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  perfect  realization  of  long-imagined  happiness 
that  it  was  long  before  she  went  to  sleep,  and  when 
she  did  sleep  her  dreams  were  rose-hued,  unsugges- 
tive  of  the  exciting  things  that  would  happen  on  the 
morrow. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RUNBOW  SPRINGS  awoke  that  next  morn- 
ing in   the  throes   of   a   sand-storm.      The 
atmosphere  was  surcharged  with  that  haunt- 
ing sense  of  the  unknown  and  mysterious  that  is 
felt  most  strongly  whenever  the  elements  make  war 
within  the  desert  boundaries. 

The  mountains  were  half-hidden  by  a  mist  of  fine 
sand  through  which  the  sun  shone  fitfully.  The 
shifting  sand  hills,  revealed  by  lulls  in  the  fury  of 
the  storm,  seemed  to  be  moving  restlessly  wave  upon 
wave,  drift  upon  drift,  swirl  upon  swirl  in  subtle 
serpentine  undulations.  Close  upon  the  heels  of  each 
momentary  lull  in  the  storm,  a  swirling  cloud  of 
sand  would  rise  and  whirl  majestically  up  the  road, 
and  a  good  stiff  wind,  with  its  fingers  on  the  keys 
of  the  gyrating  spiral,  whistled  a  merry  carol  of 
joy  because  the  crest  of  that  whirling  column  of 
sand  touched  the  sky  while  the  feet  of  it  playfully 
scuffed  the  fine  sand  up  from  the  willing  road. 

While  the  storm  raged,  Joan  and  Mona  and  Don 
danced  gleefully  about  in  the  little  yard  in  front 

155 


156       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

of  Rodney's  cottage  with  spirits  as  willfully  exuber- 
ant as  the  spirit  of  the  wind  and  sand. 

Rodney  watched  the  gleeful  trio  with  a  smile  of 
artistic  appreciation,  then  he  laughed  aloud,  as  up 
the  road  came  two  flying  Indian  children,  their  little 
bodies  glistening  like  copper  in  the  misty  yellow 
glow  of  the  sun-illumined  gale  of  sand.  With  arms 
widespread,  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina  swept  past 
the  house,  against  the  full  force  of  the  wind,  howling 
and  shouting  with  savage  glee. 

"  The  spirit  of  their  great-grandfather,  Fighting 
Wolf,  is  in  them,"  spoke  the  Major  at  Rodney's 
elbow. 

"  Ah,  good-morning,  Major,"  Rodney  said,  stiffly. 
"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here." 

The  Major  laughed,  and  rubbed  his  sleek,  white 
hands  together.  "  That  very  estimable  aunt  of 
yours  and  I  have  been  having  a  brief  conversation," 
he  answered,  with  a  suave  smile.  "  Splendid 
woman,  my  boy,  and  a  most  excellent  cook." 

Rodney  smiled,  dryly. 

Flying  Eagle  and  Marina  came  racing  down  the 
road  again,  arms  flapping  bird-like,  copper-hued 
bodies  glowing,  voices  shrill  with  childish  and  bar- 
baric enjoyment. 

"  Chawa  is  back,"  the  Major  said,  abruptly. 
"He's  a  devil,  too,"  he  added.  "But  he  is  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       157 

exact  replica  of  the  great  Fighting  Wolf,  therefore 
idolized  by  the  whole  tribe.  So  is  Flying  Eagle, 
the  taller  of  those  two  rushing  up  the  road  clad 
only  in  nature's  garments." 

"  Yes."  Rodney  spoke  the  monosyllable  ab- 
stractedly. In  some  strange  manner  he  seemed  over- 
whelmed with  a  sense  of  foreboding  evil — evil  to 
the  child,  Joan.  As  one  in  a  dream  he  heard  the 
Major's  oily  voice  saying,  "  Chawa  and  Flying 
Eagle  are  the  only  direct  descendants  of  Fighting 
Wolf.  Chawa  is  debarred  from  the  chiefship  be- 
cause of  his  white  blood.  Flying  Eagle  will  be 
chief  some  day  soon  instead  of  Pedro,  who  is  the 
grandson  of  the  brother  of  the  great  Fighting  Wolf. 
Were  this  a  hundred  years  ago,  Flying  Eagle,  young 
as  he  is,  would  be  the  chief.  But  the  white  man 
decrees  that  Pedro  shall  rule  yet  awhile." 

"What  white  man?"  Rodney  asked,  disinter- 
estedly. 

"  Ah !  "  The  word  was  long  drawn  and  syco- 
phantic. "  Dear  boy,  how  should  I  know  ?  " 

Rodney  caught  a  certain  crafty  gleam  in  the 
beady  eyes,  and  with  a  short,  "  How,  indeed  ? " 
moved  to  the  door  and  called  Joan  in  to  breakfast. 

Joan  came  joyfully,  Don  bounding  beside  her. 
Mona  slipped  across  into  the  reservation  with  a 
low-voiced  farewell  until  school. 


158       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney  unconsciously  frowned  at  the  retreating 
back  of  the  little  half-breed.  The  Major  had 
rasped  his  nerves  as  usual,  and  the  gleam  he  had 
caught  in  the  Major's  eyes  accentuated  his  feeling 
of  impending  evil. 

The  happy  light  died  out  of  Joan's  eyes  when  she 
saw  the  unctuous  Major,  and  she  went  stiffly  from 
the  room. 

By  the  time  breakfast  was  over  the  sand-storm 
was  in  the  last  throes  of  dissolution.  The  fitfully 
flying  sand,  the  last  fling  of  the  capricious  wind, 
was  luminous  with  a  beautiful  golden  light,  and 
the  mountains  stood  out  in  purple-toned  relief 
against  a  many-hued  sky. 

When  Joan  started  for  school,  after  her  usual 
hour  spent  in  caring  for  Arth,  the  sky  was  as  blue 
and  serene  as  only  the  desert  sky  can  be. 

Only  in  the  Indian  children  could  the  after  effects 
of  the  sand-storm  be  felt.  They  were  restless  and 
unruly,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  Lois 
Reeves  was  almost  worn  out  by  her  efforts  to  keep 
Flying  Eagle  and  Marina,  the  most  restless  of  all 
the  children,  in  their  seats.  To  make  them  even 
pretend  to  study  was  impossible,  although  she  ex- 
erted every  faculty  to  gain  control  of  them. 

When  Chawa  suddenly  appeared  in  the  doorway 
she  felt  that  her  cup  of  trouble  was  more  than  full. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       159 

The  coming  of  Chawa  was  the  coming  of  trouble 
even  when  the  other  children  were  under  con- 
trol. 

Chawa,  like  Mona,  was  perfectly  symmetrical. 
But  his  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  the  untamed  savage, 
black  and  flashing,  full  of  barbaric  fire.  Chawa's 
face  was  as  delicately  chiseled  as  his  sister's,  but 
was  of  savage  darkness,  and  his  beakish  nose  was 
the  nose  of  the  true  Indian. 

Still,  as  he  stood  there  in  the  doorway,  Lois 
could  not  but  admire  the  untamed  spirit  he  pre- 
sented. An  instant  later  she  regretted  having,  even 
for  a  moment,  allowed  herself  to  admire  Chawa's 
wild  beauty. 

He  stalked  majestically  into  the  room,  glancing 
neither  to  the  right  or  left,  and  took  his  seat  directly 
in  front  of  Mona  and  Joan. 

Flying  Eagle  sat  directly  across  the  aisle  from 
the  two  girls;  Marina  sat  just  in  front  of  Flying 
Eagle  and  directly  across  the  aisle  from  the  seat 
Chawa  had  taken  unto  himself. 

From  his  pockets,  the  half-breed  lad  took  two 
wriggling  lizards,  each  dangling  at  the  end  of  a 
long  string.  With  an  air  of  complete  nonchalance, 
he  tossed  the  lizards  across  the  aisle— one  to  Fly- 
ing Eagle,  one  to  Marina. 

Lois  knew  at  that  moment  she  had  lost  control 


i6o       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

of  her  school  for  that  day.  Punishment,  as  applied 
by  the  rod,  was  not  allowed  her.  No  one  is  ever 
permitted  to  strike  an  Indian  child.  "  It  would 
break  their  spirits,"  claim  the  Indian  parents — and 
the  breaking  of  the  spirit  of  the  Indian  child  is 
something  not  permitted. 

With  fiendish  cries  of  triumph,  Flying  Eagle  and 
Marina  fell  upon  the  lizards,  and  before  Lois  could 
reach  them,  were  tearing  the  little  creatures  to 
pieces.  That  the  lizards  wriggled  and  struggled 
to  free  their  partially  dismembered  bodies  from 
their  tormentors  only  added  to  the  zest  of  the  game ' 
to  the  little  barbarians. 

Lois  had  seen  such  sights  before,  but  she  knew 
that  to  Joan  such  cruelty  was  something  new,  and 
to  a  child  like  her  was  torture. 

Lois  intended,  in  her  sweet  way,  to  reason  with 
the  culprits  and  perhaps  stand  them  in  a  corner  for 
an  hour  or  so.  This  mode  of  punishment  was 
permitted  her. 

But  neither  Lois  nor  Mona,  knowing  Chawa  as 
they  did,  were  prepared  for  his  next  move. 

When  Lois  was  opposite  him,  he  took  from  his 
pocket  a  dead  rattlesnake,  perhaps  a  foot  long,  of 
the  "  side-winder  "  type,  and  flung  it  with  unerring 
aim  in  the  face  of  the  teacher. 

Lois  Reeves,  mortally  afraid  of  snakes  living  or 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       161 

dead,  promptly  fainted.  Chawa  sprang  over  her 
prostrate  body  and  was  off  like  a  flash. 

Flying  Eagle  and  Marina,  wrought  to  a  high 
state  of  savage  fury  by  the  events  of  the  morning, 
flung  themselves  upon  Lois,  and  began  to  tear  at 
her  clothing  and  flay  her  with  their  hands  while 
they  shouted  and  shrieked  in  savage  triumph. 

Joan  had  been  spellbound,  unable  to  move,  dur- 
ing the  first  part  of  the  excitement,  but  the  sight 
of  her  beloved  teacher  prone  on  her  face,  with 
the  little  Indians  tearing  at  her  as  they  had 
torn  at  the  lizards  a  few  minutes  before,  aroused 
her. 

With  a  cry  of  rage  she  sprang  from  her  seat, 
and  an  instant  later  had  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina 
in  a  firm  grasp. 

"  Get  some  water,"  she  commanded  Mona,  and 
Mona  flew  to  do  the  bidding  of  her  white  friend, 
her  great  eyes  grave  and  sad.  She  had  witnessed 
the  outrage  on  her  beloved  teacher  with  an  aching 
heart  but  with  the  stoical  patience  bequeathed  her 
by  her  Indian  mother. 

Chawa  had  thrown  the  water  from  the  pail  in  the 
anteroom  on  his  way  out,  so  Mona  had  to  go  to 
the  spring,  fully  a  block  away,  for  the  desired 
water. 

When  she  returned  the  teacher  was  sitting  up  on 


1 62       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  floor,  vainly  imploring  Joan  to  cease  her  pun- 
ishment of  the  Indian  children. 

Joan,  with  a  strength  that  seemed  superhuman, 
when  one  thought  only  of  her  slender  body,  was 
shaking  the  two  little  Indians,  terrier-like,  while 
she  poured  a  torrent  of  invectives  upon  them. 

"  You  dirty  little  beasts,"  she  panted,  as  she 
shook  them.  And  in  spite  of  herself,  Lois  could 
not  help  smiling  at  the  fire  blazing  in  Joan's  eyes. 
Purple  and  steel  flashing  eyes  were  they  now. 

"Crack!     Crack!" 

The  heads  of  the  two  Indian  children  came  to- 
gether with  a  final  spurt  of  Joan's  fury-given 
strength. 

"  I'll  never  forgive  you  for  what  you  have  done, 
never !  never !  "  she  cried,  holding  Flying  Eagle 
and  Marina  from  her  while  she  rested  an  instant. 

Then  "  Crack !  Crack !  "  The  two  heads  came 
together  with  another  vehement  impact. 

"  How  dare  you,  how  dare  you  treat  Miss  Reeves 
as  you  do?  It's  bad  enough  to  tear  poor  little 
living  things  to  pieces,  but  to  do  such  things  to 
Miss  Reeves !  "  A  sob  burst  from  Joan,  but  she 
banged  the  Indian  heads  together  again,  while  she 
panted  and  sobbed  in  her  anger. 

"  Joan !  Stop  instantly,"  Lois  cried,  as  Mona 
dashed  into  the  room  with  the  water. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       163 

Only  one  of  them  saw  Chawa  peering  in  at  one 
of  the  windows,  but  Chawa  had  been  a  delighted 
witness  of  the  whole  proceeding. 

"  Joan,  please  stop;  you  do  not  know  my  people," 
Mona  pleaded,  as  Joan,  unmindful  of  Miss  Reeves, 
still  shook  the  little  Indians,  banging  their  heads  to- 
gether at  regular  intervals,  but  with  ever-decreas- 
ing strength.  With  a  final  impact  of  the  two  black 
heads,  Joan  flung  the  children  down,  and  fell  on 
the  floor  beside  the  teacher,  who  still  sat  on  the 
floor  too  weak  to  rise. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  I  am  so  sorry  you  saw  such  an 
exhibition  of  my  wicked  temper,"  Joan  wailed, 
flinging  her  arms  around  Lois. 

Lois  drew  the  shaking  little  form  in  a  tender 
embrace. 

"  Don't  cry,  dear,"  she  pleaded,  patting  Joan's 
shoulders. 

"  I  am  so  miserable,  I  must  cry,"  Joan  sobbed. 
"  I  feel  perfectly  justified  in  punishing  Flying 
Eagle  and  Marina,  but  I  should  not  have  allowed 
myself  to  become  so  angry.  I've  vented  my  tem- 
per on  Mona's  cousins,  and  will  perhaps  lose  her 
friendship  for  life — and  I  couldn't  stand  to  lose 
Mona's  friendship,  Miss  Reeves.  She  is  my  first 
and  only  bosom  friend,  and  I  prayed  for  one  all 
my  life,  and  she  has  always  seemed  the  most  beauti- 


1 64       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ful  answer  to  that  prayer — besides  I  am  afraid  you 
will  not  care  any  longer  for  one  who  can  get  so 
terribly  angry.  I  ought  to  be  sorry  aside  from 
losing  yours  and  Mona's  friendship,  but  something 
inside  me  is  just  clamoring  with  joy  because  I 
punished  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina  for  their  out- 
rage on  you.  If  I  could  just  get  hold  of  Chawa — 
I  know  he  is  Mona's  brother,  and  they  are  orphans 
too — I'd  punish  him  with  every  remnant  of  strength 
I  have  left,  and  the  remnant  I  have  seems  rather 
worn;  in  fact,  I  feel  rather  shaky  all  over." 

Lois  pushed  the  tangled  hair  back  from  the  damp, 
flushed  face.  "  You  are  a  dear  child,"  she  said, 
tenderly,  "  and  I  assure  you  I  love  you,  and  if 
nothing  comes  of  this  to  harm  you,  I  shall  forgive 
Chawa  and  the  children  most  gladly." 

Chawa,  at  the  window,  grinned  wickedly. 

"  And  you  really  love  me  ?  "  Joan  questioned, 
eyes  alight,  face  aglow. 

Lois  drew  her  closer.  "  Yes,  dear,  so  does 
Mona." 

Joan  embraced  'Lois  rapturously;  then  looked 
around  at  Mona. 

Mona  smiled  at  her  wistful  face,  yet  her  eyes 
were  very  grave  as  she  answered. 

"  I,  Mona,  gave  my  white  friend  my  love  up  there 
where  gathers  the  dust  blown  by  the  four  winds. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       165 

I,  Mona,  am  true — my  love  is  true.  Even  now  I 
love  my  friend  more  than  ever  before — now  when 
she  most  needs  my  love."  She  stooped  and  kissed 
a  very  grateful  yet  somewhat  awed  Joan,  then 
flung  herself  in  the  seat  she  and  Joan  had  shared 
for  such  a  short  time  in  perfect  joy.  Her  face  was 
hidden  in  her  arms,  and  her  shoulders  shook.  Not 
a  tear  would  she  shed,  but  those  dry,  hard  sobs 
racked  her  slender  body. 

A  very  wide-eyed,  awed  Flying  Eagle,  with  a 
large  bump  on  the  right  side  of  his  forehead,  sat 
beside  an  equally  awed  and  wide-eyed  Marina  on 
the  seat  where  Joan  had  flung  them.  The  only 
difference  in  the  general  appearance  of  the  children 
was  noticeable  in  the  rapidly  swelling  bumps  on 
their  foreheads — Marina's  swelling  was  on  the  left 
instead  of  on  the  right  of  her  forehead. 

Lois  could  not  repress  a  smile  as  she  looked  at 
them  over  Joan's  shoulder. 

The  dead  snake  lay  close  beside  Lois,  but  she 
saw  nothing  but  the  trembling  little  body  she  held 
close  to  her  while  she  murmured  over  her  tender, 
soothing,  cooing  love  phrases.  The  dignity  of  the 
school  teacher  was  submerged  by  the  tender  mater- 
nal love  that  welled  up  in  her  heart  for  the  little 
motherless  child. 

From  time  to  time  she  looked  pityingly  at  Mona, 


166       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  pet  her  as  she 
was  petting  Joan.  She  loved  Mona  perhaps  as 
well  as  she  did  Joan,  but  just  then  the  Indian  blood 
in  the  little  half-breed  stood  like  a  huge  red  wall 
between  her  and  Lois. 

Chawa  finally  left  his  post  of  vantage,  outside 
the  window,  in  great  disgust.  He  did  not  care  to 
see  longer  a  set  of  sniveling  squaws. 

His  eyes  had  flashed  with  admiration  while  Joan 
banged  the  heads  of  his  cousins  together,  but  a 
sobbing  Joan  disgusted  him,  yet  strangely  enough, 
he  realized  that  he  was  not  nearly  so  disgusted  at 
Joan  as  he  was  at  Mona,  and  he  knew  that  Joan 
was  shedding  real  tears  and  Mona  was  as  dry-eyed 
as  was  he. 

It  was  high  noon  before  even  a  semblance  of 
order  was  restored  in  the  school.  The  dozen  or 
more  Indian  children  who  had  not  been  actively 
connected  with  the  excitement  had  looked  on  the 
whole  affair  with  immobile  faces,  and  if  one  of 
them  was  in  the  least  thrilled  with  the  zest  of  the 
battle  not  for  an  instant  was  it  reflected  on  their 
countenances.  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina  at  last 
took  their  accustomed  places,  subdued  and  strangely 
eager  to  respond  to  the  slightest  command  of  Lois. 

It  had  been  Mona — a  very  sorrowful,  grave-eyed 
Mona — who  cleared  away  the  dead  snake  and  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       167 

still  quivering  members  of  the  lizards.  When  she 
took  her  place  by  Joan  she  drew  her  close  in  a 
protective  embrace,  and  so  held  her  all  the  rest  of 
the  morning.  Lois  kept  the  children  as  late  as 
she  dared  that  morning,  then  accompanied  Joan 
home. 

The  Major  was  still  at  Rodney's,  and  when  he 
had  heard  the  story  of  the  morning,  he  tapped  his 
finger-tips  together  and  assumed  a  tragically  pater- 
nal air  toward  Joan  that  was  extremely  irritating 
to  Rodney. 

"  I  am  afraid  there  will  be  trouble  between  the 
Indians  and  their  pale-faced  brethren  over  this. 
You  should  have  been  discreet,  my  child.  I  have 
influence  with  my  red  brothers."  He  turned  and 
swept  the  little  group  with  his  beady  eyes.  "  But," 
he  lowered  his  voice,  tragically,  "  the  very  first 
schoolmaster  here,  many  years  ago,  was  killed  by 
the  Indians  for  whipping  an  Indian  child — and 
that  child  was  not  a  little  chief — Flying  Eagle  is, 
but  we  will  see,  yes,  we  will  see  what  can  be  done. 
I  am  the  only  one  who  can  influence  Pedro,  and 
it  all  depends  on  Pedro."  He  pursed  up  his  thick 
lips  and  tapped  his  finger-tips  together  while  he  re- 
peated, "  Yes,  it  depends  on  Pedro — and  myself." 

Lois  Reeves  knew  that  the  Major  spoke  the  truth 
when  he  said  he  was  the  only  one  who  could  influ- 


i68       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ence  Pedro.  And  the  Major  had  an  almost  un- 
canny power  over  the  Indian  chief. 

Her  eyes  met  Rodney's  in  a  swift,  meaning  look 
that  made  Rodney  recall  the  Major's  conversation 
of  the  early  morning. 

The  Major,  then,  was  the  white  man  who  kept 
Pedro  his  chiefship.  Truly  the  Major  did  have 
influence  over  the  Indians.  With  Joan  in  the  circle 
of  his  arms,  he  began  to  form  a  plan  to  leave 
Rainbow  Springs  on  the  next  train. 

The  Major  evidently  read  his  thoughts. 

"  That  would  not  do,"  he  snapped.  "  You  must 
stay  with  it.  If  you  started  to  leave  here  before 
the  powwow  the  Indians  will  have  to-night,  you 
would  cause  an  uprising  of  all  the  Indians  of  the 
Reservation.  You  would  never  reach  the  station. 
Trust  it  all  to  me." 

"  Oh,  if  you  can  really  be  trusted,"  Lois  mused, 
as  she  watched  his  shifting,  beady  eyes,  with  the 
gleam  of  avarice  back  of  them — a  gleam  that  she 
and  Rodney  read  aright. 

Prudence,  who  had  listened  thus  far  without 
speaking,  now  turned  on  Rodney. 

"  This  is  what  you  get  by  taking  in  a  strange 
child  of  whom  you  know  nothing.  We  shall  all  be 
scalped.  I  feel  it  in  my  bones,  and  all  because 
of  that  fool  custom  of  leaving  the  door  open  on 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       169 

Christmas  Eve  for  any  vagabond  to  come  in  that 
happens  along.  Bah!  You  are  a  fool.  All  the 
male  Whites  have  been  fools  ever  since  your  grand- 
father's wife  come  into  the  house  with  her  big 
eyes  and  appealing  kittenish  ways.  The  women 
have  some  sense,  thank  goodness." 

"  It  is  true,  Aunt  Prue,  that  I  have  had  Joan 
only  since  Christmas,  but  she  is  mine  now  legally, 
thank  God,  and  I  shall  hear  nothing  said  against 
her.  I  know  all  of  Joan's  childhood,  and  it  is  as 
pure  and  true  as  yours  or  mine. 

"If  she  has  caused  any  trouble  for  us  she  caused 
it  by  doing  the  only  honorable  and  courageous  thing 
possible  for  her  teacher.  I  glory  in  what  she  did. 
I  believe  every  one  who  properly  respects  Miss 
Reeves  should  be  willing  to  take  the  effects  of 
Joan's  just  punishment  of  Miss  Reeves's  tormentors 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  good  Major  will 
straighten  everything  out  with  the  chief." 

At  the  close  of  Rodney's  somewhat  heated 
speech,  Joan  flung  vehement  arms  about  his  neck, 
and  began  to  sob  softly.  He  drew  her  close  to 
him,  and  Lois  Reeves  gave  a  little  prayer  of  thanks 
because  such  a  man  was  the  guardian  of  the  sensi- 
tive, loyal  child. 

Prudence  sniffed  and  left  the  room  with  her  head 
held  high  in  the  air.  She  had  openly  defied  Rodney 


170       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

and  told  of  Joan's  recent  adoption.  She  did  not 
know  that  Rodney  had  told  both  Arth  and  Lois 
Reeves. 

"  Of  course  the  Major  knows  it,"  Prudence 
mused,  as  she  went  through  the  dining-room,  "  but 
then  the  Major  is  such  a  wonderful  man  it  is  right 
to  tell  him  everything.  I  am  glad  I  spit  it  out," 
she  said  aloud,  defiantly,  as  she  reached  the  kitchen, 
yet  she  knew  that  deep  down  in  her  heart  she  was 
vaguely  sorry  for  the  way  she  had  spoken  about 
the  child.  She  cared  more  for  Joan  than  she  would 
have  acknowledged  to  herself. 

When  Sam  Welch,  more  mournful  in  appearance 
than  ever,  knocked  at  the  kitchen  door,  she  wel- 
comed him  in  a  manner  that  made  his  pale  eyes 
glow  for  an  instant  before  they  drifted  back  into 
their  gloomy,  set  way  of  looking  at  the  world. 

When  Welch  and  Prudence  entered  the  living- 
room,  they  found  Joan  on  a  stool  at  Lois's  feet. 
The  Major  and  Rodney  were  out  on  the  porch  talk- 
ing in  low  tones. 

"  Well,  little  girl,  you've  made  the  Injuns  mad- 
der than  a  few  at  you,  have  you?"  Welch  de- 
manded, solemnly,  as  he  took  Joan's  hands  in  his 
and  shook  them  in  his  own  loose  way. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Welch,  you  can  understand  how  I 
feel,  I  know  you  can ! "  Joan  cried,  springing  to 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       171 

her  feet.  "  Miss  Reeves  and  Rodney  understand 
me,  but  Aunt  Prudence  does  not,  and  the  Major 
acts  as  if  I  had  committed  some  dreadful  crime. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  the  Indians  would  not  let 
any  one  punish  their  children,  how  could  I?  Of 
course  though  my  not  knowing  about  their  cus- 
toms will  not  be  anything  in  my  favor  with  the 
Indians,  and  I  know  this  minute  if  I  had  such  a 
tempest  of  anger  in  me  as  I  did  then,  I  would 
punish  them  again,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Welch  smiled  his  sorrowful  approval  at  her, 
while  he  wagged  his  head  solemnly. 

"If  I'm  scalped  to-night,  I'll  die  saying  I  lost 
my  hair  in  a  good  cause,"  he  returned,  soberly, 
rubbing  his  bald  head  in  grim  appreciation  of  his 
first  attempt  to  be  humorous. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Welch,  I  am  so  exceedingly  glad  the 
Lord  has  raised  up  still  another  friend  for  me," 
Joan  breathed,  fervently,  and  almost  dazzled  the 
poor  man  with  the  radiance  of  the  smile  she  flashed 
at  him. 

"  The  Major  has  influence  with  the  Indians,  per- 
haps he  will  be  able  to  make  them  view  the  matter 
reasonably,"  Lois  advanced,  hopefully. 

"  Yes,  the  Major  has  influence,"  Welch  grunted, 
"  so  has  the  devil,"  he  added,  in  an  undertone. 

Welch's  reference  to  his  Satanic  Majesty  won 


172       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

from  Prudence  a  cold  smile  that  nearly  froze  him, 
so  he  told  Martha  afterward,  but  the  smile  Lois 
flashed  him  was  warm  and  approving. 

"  Aunt  Prudence  does  not  generally  approve  of 
my  religious  views,"  Joan  said,  in  a  steady  little 
voice,  "  but  I  think  it's  a  very  appropriate  time  for 
us  all  to  have  the  same  religious  views  for  a  few 
minutes.  Let  us  pray  over  the  matter  here  and 
now — all  of  us  together,  for  you  know  there  is  a 
promise  to  answer  the  prayers  of  the  two  or  three 
gathered  together  in  His  name.  I  am  sure  that 
the  Lord  knows  I  am  anxious  to  take  all  the  anger 
of  the  Indians  to  myself;  if  they  are  so  angry  they 
must  take  their  mad  out  on  some  one.  Still,  I  am 
sure,  if  we  ask  Him  in  the  right  spirit,  He  will 
soften  their  hearts,  for  they  are  also  His  children." 

"Well,  I  never!"  Prudence  exclaimed,  as  Joan 
followed  her  words,  by  flinging  herself  on  her 
knees  in  front  of  Rodney's  chair. 

"  I  never  prayed  before  any  one  in  my  life," 
Welch  said,  mournfully,  "but  I'll  do  it  now  if  it 
kills  me,"  and  he  went  stiffly  down  by  his  chair, 
while  Lois,  with  a  little  tremulous  smile,  knelt 
beside  Joan. 

Joan's  vibrant  voice  breathed  the  first  prayer, 
and  it  was  such  a  mixture  of  censure  for  the 
extreme  anger  she  had  in  her  heart  when  she  pun- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       173 

ished  the  children,  coupled  as  it  was  with  the  plea 
that  she  could  not  do  otherwise  than  she  had,  that 
even  Prudence's  thin  lips  jerked  with  flickering 
smiles  as  she,  too,  knelt  beside  her  chair.  She  did 
not  want  to  kneel,  but  the  voice  of  the  child  com- 
pelled her,  and  when  Sam  Welch  and  Lois  had 
prayed  a  prayer  that  was  all  for  the  safety  of  the 
child,  Prudence  also  prayed,  and  while  the  mumbled 
words  of  her  prayer  were  intelligible  only  to  the 
recording  angel,  the  prayer  was  not  all  for  herself. 

Rodney  entered  the  room  just  as  the  odd  quar- 
tette arose  from  their  knees. 

"  The  Major  will  see  the  chief,  the  uncle  of 
the  children,"  he  announced,  with  forced  cheerful- 
ness. "  It  will  all  come  out  all  right,  little  girl," 
he  said,  tenderly,  as  he  drew  Joan  to  him.  "  The 
Indians  are  incensed  because  of  the  unusual  punish- 
ment of  the  children,  but  the  children  themselves 
are  not  angry,  which  is  good  for  our  cause,  and 
beside  that  the  Indians  know  better  than  to  harm 
a  white  person  now.  Anyway,  there  are  not 
enough  Indians  here  to  bother  us,"  he  added. 

"That's  the  talk,"  Welch  exclaimed,  with  an 
enthusiasm  that  served  to  cover  from  all  but  him- 
self his  embarrassment  over  the  recent  prayer  event. 

Yet  Sam  Welch,  keen  man  of  the  desert  that  he 
was,  knew  that  the  Indians,  if  they  were  as  in- 


174       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

censed  as  he  feared  they  were,  could  in  a  few  hours 
wipe  out  the  white  settlers  in  the  little  village. 

There  were  more  than  a  hundred  grown  Indians 
in  the  Reservation.  In  the  white  village  there  were 
about  fifty  white  people,  half  of  them  too  weak  to 
fight  if  there  were  any  weapons  among  them  to 
fight  with,  and  Welch  doubted  if  there  were  ten 
weapons  owned  by  the  white  settlers,  while  he 
secretly  knew  that  the  Major  had  recently  supplied 
the  Indians  with  a  number  of  contraband  arms  at 
a  snug  profit  to  himself. 

"  By  the  way,  you  have  a  corral,  have  you 
not  ?  "  Rodney  asked,  casually,  as  Welch  arose,  say- 
ing, "  I  'low  I'd  better  be  moving  toward  home ; 
Martha  will  have  dinner  ready." 

"Yes,  why?"  Welch  demanded,  quickly. 

Rodney's  face  flushed  under  the  man's  keen 
scrutiny.  "  Oh,  I  just  bought  the  Major's  black 
saddle  horse,"  he  answered,  avoiding  the  other 
man's  eyes. 

"  Just  so,"  Welch  returned,  musingly. 

"  Why,  Rodney,  why  did  you  buy  a  horse,  now 
of  all  times?"  Prudence  exclaimed,  irritably. 

"  Oh,  I'll  want  one  to  ride  later  on,  Aunt  Pru- 
dence, and  now  is  as  good  a  time  as  ever  to  buy 
one.  The  Major  let  me  have  his  black  beauty  at 
a  bargain." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       175 

"  A  bargain  to  himself,  no  doubt,"  Welch  mut- 
tered between  his  teeth.  Both  he  and  Lois  were 
shrewd  enough  to  know  that  the  Major  was  going 
to  use  his  influence  with  the  Indians  for  the  con- 
sideration Rodney  gave  him  for  the  black  horse, 
unusually  beautiful,  but  of  well-known  disagree- 
able temper. 

That  the  Major  had  not  openly  bargained  with 
Rodney,  Welch  also  shrewdly  guessed. 

The  fact  was,  the  big  black  horse  changed  hands 
at  an  exorbitant  price,  with  less  words  being  directly 
spoken  than  are  usually  used  in  such  exchanges  of 
ownership  of  horses. 

The  Major  had  made  a  pompous  speech,  much 
filled  with  praise  of  himself  and  his  influence  over 
the  Indians,  which  ended  with  the  sudden  seemingly 
irrelevant  remark,  "  I  have  a  horse  that  will  about 
suit  you,  my  boy." 

"  I  am  willing  to  buy  the  horse,  Major,  if  that 
will  insure  Joan's  safety  now  and  in  the  future 
as  far  as  regards  this  episode,"  Rodney  returned, 
with  a  direct  searching  look. 

"  You  have  my  hand  on  it  that  the  Indians  will 
not  harm  a  hair  of  the  child's  head  after  I  am 
through  with  them,  now  or  in  the  future,  as  far  as 
this  episode  is  concerned." 

The  Major  held  out  his  hand,  and  while  Rodney 


176       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

hated  to  touch  it,  he  dared  not  openly  show  his 
disgust,  so  allowed  the  Major  to  pump  his  arm  up 
and  down  until  it  ached. 

"  Now  about  the  horse,  my  boy,"  the  Major 
chuckled.  "  You'll  get  full  value  out  of  it." 

"  Very  well,  Major,  what  do  you  ask  for  the 
horse?  I  will  take  him." 

The  Major  named  a  price  that  would  have  shaken 
the  composure  of  most  men,  but  Rodney  took  it 
so  coolly  that  the  Major  reviled  himself  all  the  way 
over  to  Pedro's  cottage  because  he  had  not  doubled 
the  amount,  although  the  price  paid  him  would 
have  bought  a  famous  racehorse. 

"  Still,"  the  Major  mused,  complacently,  as  he 
neared  Pedro's.  "  There  will  be  a  handsome  profit 
for  me.  A  little  fire  water  for  Pedro,  coupled 
with  a  few  discreet  remarks  about  his  sinecure  as 
chief — he  owes  it  all  to  me — will  settle  the  affair." 
Just  as  the  Major  tapped  with  his  cane  on  Pedro's 
door,  Chawa  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  with  a  grin  of  contempt  at  the  Major,  sped 
across  the  Reservation  and  the  road  to  Rodney's 
cottage.  He  approached  the  cottage  as  stealthily 
as  could  have  his  great-grandfather,  Fighting 
Wolf,  and  silently  laid  a  gaudy  bow  and  a 
half-dozen  beautifully  chipped  flint-tipped  arrows 
beside  it. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       177 

"  Damn,"  the  Major  muttered  under  his  breath, 
as  Chawa  sped  past  him.  Then  his  face  bright- 
ened as  he  began  to  plan  the  powwow  for  the 
night  .  .  .  there  must  be  a  powwow,  he  mused 
...  to  properly  impress  Joan  with  the  seriousness 
of  her  offense.  He  even  determined  to  give  Marie, 
the  mother  of  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina,  a  bolt  of 
bright-hued  calico.  Past  master  of  art  at  such  fix- 
ing of  the  Indians  was  the  Major. 

When  Welch  and  Lois  started  for  home,  Lois 
found  Chawa's  peace-offering  in  front  of  the  door. 

"  Here  is  an  offering  of  love  and  faith  from 
Mona,"  Lois  called,  gayly.  "  Mona  told  me  one 
day  that  a  present  of  a  bow  and  six  arrows 
meant  love  and  peace  to  the  one  who  received 
the  gift." 

Welch  wagged  his  head  solemnly,  but  said 
nothing.  He  had  seen  the  stealthy  giver,  and  knew 
it  was  not  Mona. 

Joan  gathered  the  gift  to  her  with  a  little  cry 
of  Joy.  "  How  like  Mona  to  give  them  to  me 
now,"  she  cried. 

When  Mona  slipped  over  to  Joan's  just  before 
the  powwow  that  evening,  Joan  began  to  thank  her 
for  the  bow  and  arrows,  but  Mona  denied  the  gift 
and  her  eyes,  when  she  turned  to  leave  her  white 
friend,  were  grave  and  troubled.  She  knew  from 


178       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

whom  the  gift  came,  and  it  troubled  her  even  more 
than  had  the  events  of  the  morning. 

The  Indian  matures  early,  and  Mona  understood 
the  look  she  had  caught  in  Chawa's  flashing  eyes 
as  he  peered  in  at  the  window  that  morning. 


CHAPTER  IX 

EIS  had  but  one  pupil  that  afternoon,  and 
that  one  Joan.  Rodney  accompanied  his 
ward.  He  could  not  bear  to  have  the  child 
out  of  his  sight  an  instant,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  felt  a  great  fear — fear  for  the  beloved 
child. 

He  knew  that  even  then  the  versatile  Major  was 
holding  a  powwow  with  Pedro,  and  from  what  he 
knew  of  the  man  he  was  confident  that  Joan's  safety 
was  assured  the  instant  he  gave  to  the  greedy  Major 
the  price  of  that  safety;  still  he  was  troubled.  Joan 
meant  more  to  him  than  life  itself.  He  smiled  at 
her  skipping  along  beside  him.  Joan  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  the  events  of  the  morning.  Not 
since  the  odd  prayer  service  had  a  shadow  of  doubt 
assailed  her  about  the  outcome  of  the  affair.  Joan's 
faith  in  the  Infinite  was  something  sublime.  And 
every  now  and  then  her  laugh  rang  out  like  the 
ripple  of  deep  water  kissed  by  the  sun  and  wind. 

When  Rodney,  Lois,  and  the  child  started  home 
in  the  late  afternoon,  they  found  the  Major  await- 
ing them  at  the  door.  The  Major  pointed  tri- 

179 


i8o       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

umphantly  to  a  solar  bow  that  hung  in  the  sky 
over  the  Springs. 

"  Nothing  could  have  been  better  for  our  cause, 
my  boy,"  he  said,  unctuously,  as  he  patted  Rodney's 
shoulder.  "  That  shower  was  worth  a  great  deal 
to  us,  my  boy,  a  great  deal.  The  Indians  will  com- 
bine their  worship  of  the  rainbow  with  the  council 
powwow  to-night  and  all  will  go  as  merrily  as  we 
could  ask.  But  never  touch  an  Indian  child  again, 
young  lady,"  he  admonished  Joan,  with  a  pudgy 
forefinger  under  her  chin. 

Joan  shrank  back  from  him,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
fire  as  she  slipped  her  hand  in  Lois's  with  a  swift 
little  movement  that  spoke  as  plainly  as  could  words 
that  she  would  fight  her  beloved  teacher's  battles 
every  day  in  the  year  if  need  be. 

"  I  do  not  believe  there  will  be  occasion  for  a 
repetition  of  to-day's  trouble,"  Rodney  said,  stiffly. 

The  Major  changed  the  subject.  "  I  see  you 
have  the  colt  all  ready."  He  waved  a  fat  hand 
toward  Sam  Welch's  corral,  where  the  big  black 
beauty  was  pawing  angrily. 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  a  beauty,  Major.  I  am  very 
glad  I  own  him,"  Rodney  answered,  dryly.  "  I 
shall  get  one  of  the  Indians  to  break  him." 

"  No  need,  my  boy,  no  need ;  he  is  as  gentle  as 
a  kitten."  The  Major  tapped  his  finger-tips  to- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       181 

gether  impressively.     "  As  gentle  as  a  kitten,  suh." 

"  As  gentle  as  some  kittens,  no  doubt,  Major," 
Rodney  returned,  pleasantly. 

Rodney  had  the  horse's  reputation  from  Welch. 
The  black  beauty  had  crippled  three  Indians  al- 
ready and  was  yet  unconquered. 

"  I'll  leave  you  now,"  Lois  said,  with  a  flash  of 
amusement  in  her  dark  eyes.  She  stooped  and 
kissed  Joan,  and  impulsively  held  out  her  hand  to 
Rodney.  The  Major  she  ignored  or  at  best  in- 
cluded him  in  the  brief,  "  I'm  going  in  to  cheer 
up  Mr.  Arth,"  as  she  turned  into  Arth's  yard. 

The  Major  accompanied  Rodney  and  Joan  home, 
explaining  impressively  and  at  great  length  his  try- 
ing time  with  the  Indian  chief,  Pedro,  before  he 
could  secure  a  promise  of  peace  to  all  the  pale  faces, 
and  peace  and  safety  for  Joan. 

At  the  cottage  he  repeated  the  harangue,  and 
Prudence  believed  every  word  of  it.  The  Major 
held  all  the  winning  cards  in  the  odd  love  affair 
that  evening. 

"  It's  a  heathenish  country  anyway,"  Prudence 
said  at  last.  "  Think  of  a  rain  like  we  had  this 
afternoon  and  the  ground  perfectly  dry  now.  It  is 
fit  only  for  the  Indians  here.  I  am  surprised  that 
a  man  like  you,  Major,  should  keep  on  living  here." 

"  My  lungs  brought  me  here,  dear  lady,  just  as 


1 82       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  dear  boy's  brought  him.  I  stayed  on  because 
I  became  interested  in  my  red  brethren,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  his  hand  on  where  his  heart  should 
have  been.  "  Then  my  wife  passed  away  and  left 
me  desolate."  He  wiped  his  eyes  with  a  great  white 
silk  handkerchief.  "  But  now  life  is  beginning  to 
brighten  for  me,"  he  said,  pompously,  with  a  mean- 
ing look  at  Prudence,  as  he  emerged  from  behind 
the  handkerchief. 

There  was  silence  for  a  time.  A  heavy  impres- 
sive silence  during  which  the  face  of  Prudence  red- 
dened and  paled  a  number  of  times.  Joan  at  last 
slipped  out  on  the  porch  where  she  was  joined  by 
Mona.  Rodney  followed  Joan  to  the  door  and 
requested  her  to  remain  in  the  yard.  A  wonderful 
smile  brightened  Mona's  face  and  lurked  in  her 
great  gray  eyes  as  she  flashed  an  approving  glance 
at  Rodney.  In  an  instant  the  smile  was  gone  and 
her  eyes  were  steady,  serious,  inscrutable. 

She  came  close  to  Rodney,  and  spoke  quickly,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Chawa  very  fierce — he  grown  now  same  as  you 
— I  love  him,  he  is  my  brother,  but  I  love  the  pale- 
face child  more.  She  make  Mona  very  happy 
here."  She  placed  her  hand  on  her  heart. 

"  You  love  her  much."  Rodney's  eyes  followed 
hers  to  Joan,  her  bright  head  bent  over  the  gift  of 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       183 

Chawa.  Unconsciously  Rodney  had  been  led  out 
of  Joan's  hearing  by  the  little  half-breed. 

"  Those  Chawa's  gifts."  Mona  pointed  to  the 
bow  and  arrows.  "  He,  Chawa,  love  Joan — he 
fight  to  win  her. — In  his  veins  flows  the  blood  of 
the  great  fighting  chief,  Fighting  Wolf.  Chawa 
not  of  my  father's  people,  no,  no,  he  all  of  the  red 
blood.  We  must  watch  Chawa — do  not  think  he 
is  child — Chawa  is  not — he  as  grown  as  you."  Her 
voice  trembled,  and  her  eyes  were  troubled  and 
grave.  "  You  watch,  too,  that  Major  man  in  there. 
I  hate  him,"  she  said,  vehemently,  her  voice  con- 
temptuous and  raspy  with  hate.  "  He  give  Pedro 
much  fire-water  to-day.  He  make  enemy  of  all 
for  her,  if  he  could.  He  hates  her  as  I  hate  him, 
but  I  love  her;  I,  Mona,  stand  ready  to  give  my 
life  for  my  white  friend.  So  have  I  sworn  by  the 
Sun  and  Moon  gods— so  have  I  declared  at  the 
feet  of  my  brother,  the  palms,  on  the  spot  where 
blows  the  dust  gathered  by  the  four  winds,  and  I, 
Mona,  keep  my  word." 

She  spoke  quite  simply,  yet  her  voice  was  vibrant 
with  truth,  and  Rodney  knew  that  she  did  not  speak 
lightly. 

Mona  was  only  two  years  older  than  Joan,  but 
Joan  was  a  child  and  Mona  stood  on  the  invisible 
border  line  between  childhood  and  womanhood. 


1 84       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  What  a  magnificent  creature  of  fire  and  dew 
she  is !  "  Rodney  mused,  as  he  watched  the  chang- 
ing lights  in  the  great  dark  eyes. 

"  I  glad  you  love  her.  You  take  her  to  you 
forever  some  day  as  my  white  father  took  my  dark 
mother.  She  loves  you,  love  for  love,"  she  said, 
softly,  a  note  of  joy  blended  with  a  note  of  ex- 
quisite renunciation  in  the  liquid  voice,  and  sud- 
denly she  had  crossed  the  invisible  border  line,  and 
a  woman  stood  before  the  man,  and  for  one  instant 
it  was  given  him  to  read  the  words  of  a  great  love 
that  were  written  in  the  eyes  wonderfully  soft  now 
and  misty  with  love  and  pain  and  renunciation. 
Then  the  eyes  were  once  more  grave,  inscrutable. 

"  I  go  now,"  she  said,  gravely.  "  You  need  not 
fear  for  the  child  we  both  love;  I,  Mona,  watch 
her."  She  smiled  gravely  as  she  turned  to  leave 
the  man,  who  stood  silent,  spellbound. 

With  an  effort  Rodney  pulled  himself  together 
and  said,  huskily,  "  I  thank  you,  Mona,  and  I  trust 
you  with  the  child  dearer  to  me  than  life." 

The  man  never  forgot  the  smile  the  girl-woman 
flashed  at  him. 

"  Come,  Joan,  Mona  is  going,"  Rodney  called. 
Joan  came  joyously,  and  threw  her  arms  caress- 
ingly about  Mona. 

Joan  had  been  weaving  a  fanciful  story  about 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       185 

the  bow  and  arrows  and  a  beautiful  princess,  to 
whom  they  were  given.  She  fancied  the  beautiful 
princess  going  forth  from  her  own  country  to  a 
strange  land  to  rescue  her  lover,  a  handsome  prince, 
who  had  been  stolen  by  a  giant  and  imprisoned  in 
a  great  cave  in  the  strange  land,  and  as  usual,  when 
weaving  tales,  had  forgotten  the  existence  of  all  be- 
side her  fancy.  To  her  the  bow  and  arrows  were 
magic  things  and  the  nucleus  of  many  a  fanciful 
tale. 

Mona  returned  Joan's  embrace  with  a  tender, 
protective  one,  and  Rodney  smiled  happily  at  the 
picture  they  made  there  in  the  early  twilight. 

"  I  go  now,"  Mona  said  at  last.  "  You  come  to 
Mr.  Arth's  to-night — my  mother's  people  have 
dance  to-night  just  across  from  his  place — you  both 
enjoy  it.  You  come?  "  she  asked  directly  of  Rod- 
ney. "  You  see  something  if  you  do,  also  you  bring 
her,  that  stern  woman  inside,  she  see  much  do  her 
good." 

Rodney  laughed.     "  Yes,  Mona,  we  will  come." 

"  Good,"  Mona  said,  softly,  and  was  gone. 

"  Wonder  what  Aunt  Prudence  will  see  that  will 
do  her  good,"  he  mused,  as  he  entered  the  cottage, 
his  arm  about  Joan. 

That  the  Major  had  been  pressing  his  suit  when 
they  entered  was  very  apparent  by  Prudence's  em- 


1 86       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

barrassment  and  the  Major's  flash  of  anger  when 
Rodney  calmly  took  his  seat  and  began  talking 
about  the  coming  powwow.  "  I  am  going,"  he 
said,  cheerfully,  ignoring  the  Major's  scowls. 

"  You'd  better  stay  home,"  the  Major  growled, 
as  he  mopped  his  forehead.  Prudence  had  made  it 
very  difficult  for  him  to  propose  to  her,  and  now 
the  interruption  at  the  most  crucial  moment  was 
very  trying.  The  Major  was  pardonable  for  some 
of  his  spleen. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  going,"  Rodney  repeated, 
calmly,  enjoying  the  Major's  discomfiture.  "  I 
think  Aunt  Prudence  will  enjoy  it.  She  will  have 
to  go  or  be  left  alone,  and  I  am  sure  she  will  prefer 
going." 

"Are  you  going,  Major?"  Prudence  asked, 
timidly. 

"  Yes — er — no,  that  is  I  have  a  business  engage- 
ment a  little  later,  dear  lady,  or  I  would  gladly 
come  and  stay  with  you,  if  your  nephew  is  not 
considerate  enough  to  do  so." 

Prudence  flushed  painfully.  She  had  a  sense  of 
having  said  something  unmaidenly. 

"  I  will  go  with  Rodney,  Major,"  she  said,  stiffly. 

"  Go  on  and  get  ready,  Aunt  Prue,"  Rodney  said, 
cheerfully.  "  Perhaps  we  may  see  you  at  the  dance, 
Major."  Rodney  turned  to  the  Major.  The 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       187 

Major's  eyes  flashed  malevolently  as  he  gnawed  at 
his  long  mustache. 

"  Sorry,  but  you  will  not,"  he  said,  stiffly,  just  as 
Prudence  returned  to  the  room,  ready  to  accompany 
Rodney  and  Joan.  "  I  have  to  go  to  the  station 
to-night  to  meet  the  late  freight,"  the  Major  lied, 
calmly. 

"  I  fancy,  Mona,  girl,  that  I  owe  you  a  debt 
of  gratitude  in  that  direction,"  Rodney  mused,  as 
he  and  Joan  followed  Prudence  and  the  Major  down 
the  sandy  road  to  Arth's  cottage,  where  most  of  the 
white  people  were  already  gathered  to  witness  the 
Indian  rites. 

The  Major  left  them  just  before  the  cottage  was 
reached. 

"  Damn  Pedro,"  he  growled,  as  he  went  across 
the  road  toward  the  Reservation.  "  Damn  him,"  he 
jerked  out  again,  as  he  neared  Pedro's  cottage. 
"  Why  in  thunder  did  he  insist  on  me  being  there." 
As  he  knocked  on  the  door  with  his  cane,  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  grunted  philosophically. 
"  No  use  to  grunt  about'it.  I  can  push  Pedro  just 
so  far.  Damn  it  all,  I'll  have  to  grin  and  do  it, 
but  if  that  young  cuss  had  stayed  out  five  minutes 
longer  I  would  have  had  the  old  gal's  word." 

He  banged  the  door  again  impatiently.  It  opened 
and  the  darkness  of  the  room  swallowed  him  up. 


1 88       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

The  calm  desert  moon  looked  down  upon  a 
strange  scene  that  night,  but  one  upon  which  it  had 
looked  many,  many  times. 

Across  from  Arth's  cottage  lay  the  open  desert, 
and  there  the  Indians  gathered  for  their  sacred 
dance  to  the  rainbow,  symbol  of  the  love  of  the 
Sun  and  Moon  gods  for  their  Earth-born  children. 

Seven  great  fires  marked  the  boundaries  of  a 
great  clearing.  Superstitious  reverence  to  the  seven 
rainbows  of  the  ancient  days  demanded  this  setting. 

The  glow  of  the  fires  threw  into  flickering  relief 
the  Indians  gathered  in  one  serpentine  wave  within 
the  boundary  limits. 

With  a  start,  Rodney  recognized  that  the  man  at 
the  end  of  the  line  nearest  the  road  was  not  an 
Indian,  although  he  was  wrapped  in  a  blanket  as 
were  the  Indians,  but  his  rotundity  suggested  the 
Major. 

He  startled  the  group  about  him  by  suddenly 
giving  a  shrill  whistle.  The  man  at  the  end  of  the 
line  half  turned  for  just  an  instant,  and  the  man 
was  the  Major. 

Without  question  the  Major  had  influence  over 
the  Indians  of  Rainbow  Springs,  and  equally  un- 
questionable was  the  fact  that  even  Prudence  had 
recognized  the  Major. 

Beyond  the  fires  lay  the  desert  serene  and  peace- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       189 

ful,  majestic  in  its  purple  shadows  and  vast  silence. 
In  the  midst  of  the  circle  was  a  giant  cacti  "  Cereus 
Giganteus,"  with  more  than  a  dozen  columns  twenty 
feet  or  more  in  height  flanking  the  main  body. 

On  the  faces  of  all  the  Indians  was  a  superstitious 
expression  that  was  almost  fanatically  dangerous. 
The  end  man  kept  his  face  hidden  in  the  folds  of 
his  blanket,  while  he  wondered  who  had  emitted 
that  shrill  whistle  and  if  he  had  turned  his  face 
far  enough  to  be  visible  to  the  white  people  across 
the  road.  It  was  a  subject  to  ponder  over. 

Suddenly  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night  was 
broken  by  a  low  humming  murmur  that  came  from 
the  throats  of  the  Indians.  At  first  it  was  faint  and 
low,  characterless,  but  it  began  to  swell  and  gain 
in  power  as  a  stream  of  water  swells  and  grows  in 
force  as  it  nears  the  sea. 

As  the  chanting  gained  in  volume  and  musical 
character  the  faces  of  the  Indians  grew  distorted 
with  their  wild  exertions.  A  distinct  and  majestic 
harmony  was  now  manifest  in  the  intonating  sound 
and  at  the  close  of  several  high  bird-like  calls, 
from  the  throats  of  the  women,  seven  of  the  men 
separated  themselves  from  the  serpentine  line,  and 
began  to  dance  about  the  cacti,  while  the  voices  of 
the  singers  rose  and  fell  in  plaintive,  harmonic 
cadences. 


190       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

The  seven  were  medicine  men,  and  as  the  dance 
grew  wilder  they  threw  offerings  of  beads  and  birds 
and  lizards  at  the  base  of  the  giant  cacti,  and  an 
untamed  note  crept  into  the  voices  of  them  all, 
while  fiercer  and  wilder  grew  the  antics  of  the 
seven  medicine  men  capering  about  the  giant  cacti. 

Rodney  noticed  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  the 
Major  was  not  dancing  with  the  Indians,  but  was 
huddled  in  his  blanket  in  the  shadows. 

The  fires  burned  fiercer  now,  and  at  a  sign  from 
one  of  the  medicine  men  a  slight,  dark  figure  left 
the  far  end  of  the  line  of  dancers. 

The  youth  stood  for  a  moment  in  bold  relief 
against  the  background  of  dancing  fire,  and  in  that 
moment  Rodney  recognized  Chawa,  the  brother  of 
Mona.  There  was  no  trace  now  of  the  white  blood 
that  flowed  in  the  veins  of  the  half-breed  lad. 
Indian,  all  Indian,  was  Chawa  as  he  stood  there, 
his  patrician  blood  showing  in  every  lineament  of 
his  lithe  body. 

Rodney  could  not  but  admire  that  sinewy  form, 
as  lithe  and  graceful  as  a  panther,  yet  he  instinc- 
tively drew  Joan  close  to  him,  as  he  suddenly  re- 
called the  words  of  Mona. 

Chawa  swept  the  dancers  with  a  haughty  glance, 
before  he  advanced  to  the  nearest  burning  heap 
and  lighted  a  torch  that  lay  beside  it. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       191 

With  the  burning  torch  in  his  hand,  he  ran 
swiftly  to  the  six  remaining  heaps  of  fire  and  thrust 
the  burning  brand  into  the  flames  of  each,  then 
advanced  toward  the  giant  cacti  with  slow  and 
graceful  contortions  of  his  perfect  body  clad  only 
in  a  breechcloth  of  tawny  lion-skin. 

The  seven  medicine  men  formed  a  circle  about 
the  cacti  and  raised  their  voices  in  a  howling,  dis- 
cordant cry  to  the  Sun  and  Moon  gods  to  witness 
the  burning  of  their  offerings. 

Chawa  held  the  burning  torch  for  an  instant 
against  the  base  of  the  giant  cacti,  and  a  fitful, 
flickering  flame  began  to  play  about  it. 

The  seven  medicine  men  broke  their  circle  and 
began  to  dance  slowly  backward  until  they  reached 
the  serpentine  line  of  Indians,  now  motionless. 

For  a  time  the  flames  flickered  about  the  trunk 
of  the  cacti;  then  with  a  crackling  noise  ran  fiercely 
up  the  ribbed  columns,  seeking  and  burning  all  the 
spines  thereon. 

As  the  flames  crept  higher,  in  their  leaping  way 
to  the  tops  of  the  columns,  the  Indians  began  to 
dance  again,  swaying  with  rhythmic  movements 
indescribably  graceful. 

As  the  flames  began  to  die  out,  the  chanting  grew 
softer  and  softer,  until  it  was  only  a  low  musical 
whisper. 


192       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

The  savage  light  faded  from  the  faces  of  all  but 
Chawa.  Chawa's  face  was  still  savage,  his  eyes 
flashing,  his  head  held  high.  Unlike  the  others  he 
did  not  feel  the  presence  of  the  Sun  and  Moon 
gods,  neither  did  he  linger  with  them  until  all  the 
fires  died  out  and  the  midnight  wind  came  in  answer 
to  the  prayers  of  the  medicine  men  to  scatter  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  the  ashes  of  the  homage  fires. 

Neither  did  Chawa  appear  to  that  sacred  rite  that 
followed  the  dance  and  to  which  no  white  man  has 
ever  been  a  witness. 

Next  day  Joan  found  a  bright  Indian  basket  on 
her  side  of  the  desk  when  she  and  Mona  slipped 
into  their  seat. 

She  turned  to  Mona,  a  happy  light  in  her  lumi- 
nous eyes,  to  find  Mona  regarding  her  with  a 
troubled  look. 

"  I  did  not  bring  it,  little  friend,"  Mona  said, 
gravely. 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  dear  Mona,  you  love  to  surprise 
me  and  make  things  mysterious,"  Joan  cried,  with 
a  warm  kiss  on  Mona's  red  lips.  "  I  thought  when 
we  first  went  to  the  Cave  of  Rest  that  you  were 
not  imaginative,  even  though  I  knew  we  were  meant 
for  lifelong  friends  the  instant  I  saw  you,  but  you 
are  imaginative,  Mona,  dear,  and  everything  else 
that  makes  you  perfectly  adorable." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       193 

"  I  did  not  bring  it,  little  friend,"  Mona  re- 
peated, but  Joan  only  hugged  her  the  more  warmly, 
and  refused  to  believe  otherwise. 

Mona  did  not  tell  Joan  the  gift  was  the  gift  of 
Chawa;  that  would  have  been  disloyal  to  her 
brother,  and  Mona  was  true  to  Chawa,  even  though 
she  did  not  understand  him  and  was  determined  to 
protect  her  white  friend  from  him. 

No  one  understood  Chawa  in  the  weeks  that  fol- 
lowed. He  appeared  at  school  one  morning  and 
behaved  himself  perfectly  all  that  day,  and  after 
that  he  attended  the  school  regularly.  He  was 
as  intelligent  as  he  was  wild  and  beautiful.  Lois, 
after  she  began  to  have  faith  in  his  regener- 
ation, took  a  great  pride  in  his  rapid  advance- 
ment. 

Almost  every  morning  there  was  a  gift  of  some 
kind  for  Joan.  After  a  time  Joan  was  forced  to 
believe  the  gifts  were  not  from  Mona,  but  this  only 
added  to  the  enjoyment  she  took  in  their  mysterious 
appearance  each  morning.  She  never  once  connected 
the  gifts  with  Chawa,  for  not  once  during  the 
weeks  he  attended  school  did  Chawa  speak  to  Joan. 
But  Chawa,  unknown  to  Joan,  spent  many  minutes 
looking  at  the  white  child  when  she  was  lost  in 
study,  and  the  light  in  his  eyes  grew  more  intense 
each  day,  and  Mona  grew  more  and  more  troubled 


194       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

until  at  last  she  sought  Rodney,  and  warned  him 
that  Chawa  was  getting  restless,  and  some  day 
Rodney  would  awaken  to  find  Joan  gone — spirited 
away.  "  The  Major  will  help  Chawa,"  she  added, 
as  she  turned  to  leave  the  startled  man.  "  If  I  were 
you  I'd  see  my  uncle,  Pedro.  For  much  money  he 
will  send  Chawa  to  a  school  Chawa  cannot  leave 
for  as  long  a  time  as  you  wish." 

Like  a  flash  she  vanished  as  silently  and  noise- 
lessly as  she  had  come,  and  Rodney  set  out  for 
Pedro's. 

After  a  long  talk  there  was  the  passing  of  money 
from  a  fine  white  hand  to  a  dirty  red  one.  The 
following  morning  Chawa  disappeared  from  Rain- 
bow Springs.  Pedro  had  promised  that  Chawa 
would  remain  away  three  years.  Rodney  hoped 
by  that  time  to  be  able  to  leave  Rainbow  Springs 
in  perfect  health. 

With  the  going  of  Chawa  no  more  gifts  appeared 
on  Joan's  desk,  and  finally  Joan  connected  their 
absence  with  Chawa.  She  never  mentioned  her 
discovery  to  any  one,  but  the  gifts  lost  their  magic 
power  to  charm  her,  for  Joan  could  never  forget 
the  sight  of  her  beloved  teacher  when  Chawa  threw 
the  snake  in  her  face. 

The  two  girls  and  the  gold-coated  collie  spent 
many  happy  hours  in  the  Cave  of  Rest  in  the  fairy 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       195 

world  to  which  only  the  young  and  innocent  have 
the  key. 

One  memorable  day  Mona  took  Joan  to  see  her 
grandmother,  the  ancient  Cecilia. 

The  sun  beat  down  on  the  Indian  village  that 
April  day  with  rare  intensity. 

The  shack  where  Mona  lived  with  her  grand- 
mother was  less  than  two  city  blocks  from  the 
cottage  where  Joan  lived,  but  Joan  had  never  been 
inside  the  Reservation  since  the  first  morning  at 
the  Springs,  and  then  she  had  not  gone  fifty  yards 
before  Prudence  called  her  back. 

Mona's  face  flushed  sensitively  as  they  neared 
her  home,  but  Joan,  chattering  animatedly  as  usual 
beside  her,  did  not  notice  her  embarrassment. 

"  My  grandmother,"  Mona  announced,  stoically, 
as  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  shack  and  came 
upon  Cecilia  lying  flat  upon  her  back  under  the 
broiling  sun. 

In  lieu  of  a  pillow  the  ancient  one's  head  rested 
on  an  upturned  tin  pan,  and  her  shrunken  body 
was  bare  save  for  a  short  skirt  that  scarce  reached 
to  her  knees. 

Cecilia  knew  but  few  words  of  English,  but  she 
did  know  that  Joan  was  the  friend  Mona  had  told 
her  much  about — she  knew  that  Mona  idolized  the 
white  child;  she  worshipped  Mona,  so  she  raised 


196       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

herself  to  a  sitting  posture  and  grunted  an  amiable 
"How  do?" 

Joan  took  her  outstretched  bony  hand,  and  shook 
it  cordially.  Mona  watched  her  little  friend  closely, 
but  her  keen  eyes  could  not  detect  the  shiver  of 
repulsion  that  ran  through  Joan  and  was  intensified 
by  the  sight  of  the  filthy  pipe  clutched  tight  between 
the  toothless  gums  of  the  old  squaw,  her  lips  curled 
back  in  a  welcoming  grin. 

"  I  am  well,  thank  you,  and  I  hope  you  are  enjoy- 
ing good  health,"  Joan  returned,  in  answer  to 
Cecilia's  "How  do?" 

The  manner  of  the  child  evidently  pleased  the 
ancient  one,  for  she  hunched  herself  up  into  a  more 
comfortable  position,  and  took  the  pipe  from  her 
mouth,  extending  it  to  Joan  with  the  brief,  "  We 
friends — smoke — Cecilia's  love  pipe." 

Mona  spoke  rapidly  to  her  grandmother  in  the 
low,  not  unmusical,  dialect  of  the  tribe,  pleading  the 
old  squaw  not  to  force  the  pipe  upon  her  friend,  but 
the  squaw  was  obdurate. 

"  Smoke ! "  she  demanded.  "  Smoke  with 
Cecilia." 

Seeing  the  troubled  look  in  Mona's  eyes,  Joan 
squatted  down  beside  Cecilia.  She  had  read  about 
the  "  pipe  of  peace  "  of  the  Indians,  and  suddenly 
determined  to  smoke  it  with  Cecilia. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       197 

"  It  is  all  right,  Mona,"  she  said,  with  a  trace 
of  eagerness  in  her  vibrant  voice.  "  I  am  sure  the 
experience  will  amply  repay  me.  In  after  years, 
when  you  and  I  are  grown  and  in  a  beautiful  home 
of  our  own,  it  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  look  back 
on  this  day.  I  assure  you,  Mona,  I  shall  revel  in 
smoking  the  '  pipe  of  peace '  with  your  grand- 
mother. It  is  thrilling  just  to  think  about 
it." 

Cecilia  did  not  in  the  least  understand  Joan's 
rapid  speech,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  sin- 
cerity written  in  every  line  of  that  bright,  expressive 
face. 

Even  Mona  understood  that  her  friend  was  truly 
enjoying  the  thoroughness  of  her  abasement  in 
making  a  call  on  a  full-blooded  Indian  squaw. 

Joan  beamed  upon  Cecilia  as  she  thrust  the  dirty 
pipe  between  her  teeth,  and  puffed  tentatively  at  it. 

Mona  watched  her  in  dismay.  There  was  a  light 
in  Joan's  eyes  that  warned  her  that  it  was  useless 
to  interfere  with  her  friend  while  her  mind  was 
making  a  flight  to  realms  unknown.  So  she 
watched  her  grandmother  and  Joan  smoke  the  pipe 
turn  about  until  the  old  squaw  signified  by  a  con- 
tented grunt  that  the  smoke  session  was  at  an 
end. 

With  another  grunt  Cecilia  lay  back  down  with 


198       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

her  head  on  the  tin  pan,  and  soon  began  to  snore 
contentedly,  drifting  asleep  with  the  quickness  and 
ease  of  the  very  young  or  very  old. 

Joan  struggled  weakly  to  her  feet. 

"  I  am  very  dizzy,  Mona,"  she  said,  in  a  weak 
little  voice.  Her  face  was  drawn  and  gray. 

"  I  assure  you,  though,  that  I  am  very  happy 
to  have  smoked  with  your  grandmother.  I  am 
sure  she  enjoyed  it.  I  feel  very  sick,  but  although 
my  faith  is  shaken  in  Miss  Warren's  belief  just 
as  she  believed  it,  still  I  shall  try  to  believe  this  is 
only  imagination.  It  may  even  help  me  to  repeat 
the  Scientific  Statement  of  Life — '  There  is  no  life, 
truth,  intelligence  nor  substance  in  matter,'  Mona 
dear.  '  All  is  Infinite  Mind  and  its  Infinite  mani- 
festations,' so  I  cannot  feel  badly,  Mona,  dear, 
even  though  error  is  trying  to  make  me  believe 
otherwise.  Your  grandmother  smokes  that  pipe 
right  along  with  a  perfectly  harmonious  feeling,  and 
why  should  not  the  result  be  the  same  in  my  case. 
I  smoked  the  pipe  to  please  her,  but  oh,  Mona,  dear, 
let  us  get  home  to  Rodney  quickly." 

She  staggered  weakly  as  they  started  across  the 
road.  Mona  supported  her  wavering  footsteps  while 
a  band  tightened  about  her  heart.  She  had  prom- 
ised the  beautiful  white  man,  as  she  called  Rod- 
ney, to  care  for  the  child  he  loved,  and  now 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       199 

she  was  bringing  that  child  home  with  a  wild 
mind. 

Very  bravely  Joan  fought  the  almost  overpower- 
ing nausea  that  assailed  her,  until  the  cottage  door 
was  reached,  but  when  Rodney  opened  the  door,  she 
crumpled  up  in  a  weak  little  heap  at  his  feet,  crying 
"  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  Rodney  turned  to  Mona, 
his  voice  quivering  with  anger  and  anxiety. 

Mona  quickly  and  vividly  recounted  their  visit 
to  her  grandmother  Cecilia. 

Rodney  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  Mona's 
dramatic  sketch  of  the  smoke  session,  even  though 
Joan  hung  limp  in  his  arms  as  he  carried  her  into 
her  room. 

Rodney  had  gone  through  the  same  sickness  in 
boyhood,  and  knew  that  it  was  not  necessarily  dan- 
gerous. 

He  called  Prudence,  and  Prudence  undressed 
Joan  almost  tenderly;  then  plunged  her  feet  into 
the  tub  of  hot  water  she  had  Mona  bring  her  from 
the  kitchen.  And  to  the  credit  of  Prudence  be  it 
said,  she  gave  thanks  that  the  boiling  water  was  on 
the  stove  ready  for  a  chicken  she  had  intended  to 
dress  for  supper  that  night. 

In  an  hour  Joan  was  almost  herself  again.  She 
was  still  weak  and  dizzy  when  she  tried  to  stand  on 


200       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

her  feet,  and  Prudence,  a  tender  note  in  her  voice 
Rodney  had  never  heard  before,  decreed  that  Joan 
should  have  her  supper  in  bed. 

Joan  had  a  happy  hour  after  supper,  for  Lois 
came  over  then,  and  she  and  Mona  each  held  a  moist 
little  hand  in  theirs,  while  Prudence  looked  on  with 
a  grim  yet  not  unkind  smile. 

Joan  never  regretted  smoking  the  "  pipe  of  peace  " 
with  the  ancient  Cecilia,  indeed  she  was  heartily 
glad  she  had  done  so  when  a  week  later  Cecilia's 
spirit  went  to  join  the  spirits  of  her  ancestors  in 
the  great  beyond. 


CHAPTER  X 

WILLIAM  ARTH  grew  very  fond  of  Joan 
during  the  long  winter  months.  Every 
morning  she  came  to  his  cottage  like  a 
ray  of  sunshine.  The  brightness  of  the  hour  she 
spent  with  him  lingered  with  him  all  the  weary 
day  and  in  the  long,  sleepless  hours  of  the  night 
the  thought  of  her  was  the  anchor  upon  which  he 
rested. 

Arth  had  been  complaining  for  some  days,  and 
one  night  late  in  April  he  suffered  from  an  acute 
attack  of  lung  congestion,  and  to  Joan  his  condition 
was  alarming.  He  tried  to  quiet  Joan's  fear  when, 
as  was  her  custom,  she  ran  over  in  the  early  twilight 
to  bid  him  good-night. 

"  We'll  try  to  believe  you  are  not  sick  at  all,"  she 
said,  with  forced  brightness.  "  You  repeat  the 
Ninety-first  Psalm  while  I  run  over  to  the  house  for 
a  minute.  I'll  come  back."  She  answered  the  wist- 
ful look  in  the  sick  man's  eyes. 

She  ran  all  the  way  up  the  sandy  road  to  the 
Major's,  and  dashed  into  the  Major's  presence  with- 
out the  formality  of  knocking  for  admission. 

201 


202       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I  want  to  use  your  telephone  immediately,"  she 
cried.  "  I  want  to  call  the  hermit  doctor  for  Mr. 
Arth." 

"  The  telephone  is  out  of  order,"  the  Major 
growled,  as  Joan  dashed  across  the  room  to  it. 

If  Joan  heard,  there  was  no  sign  of  it  manifested 
by  her  movements.  She  assured  herself  that  the 
telephone  was  indeed  useless,  and  was  off  like  a 
flash  before  the  Major  could  make  a  fittingly  scath- 
ing remark  about  her  intrusion.  This  disgusted  the 
Major  greatly,  and  he  settled  back  in  his  chair, 
scowling  at  the  telephone — the  only  one  at  the 
Springs.  At  last  his  beady  eyes  gleamed  with  an 
unholy  light.  It  would  be  impossible  to  secure  the 
service  of  the  hermit  doctor,  who  lived  all  alone  at 
a  place  he  called  "  Seven  Pine  Lodge  "  because  of 
the  seven  great  pines  that  towered  sentinel-like 
over  his  snug  little  cottage  on  the  ridge  of  the  moun- 
tain. Seven  Pine  Lodge  was  twelve  miles  from 
Rainbow  Springs.  The  doctor  was  a  queer  char- 
acter, a  man  who  lived  absolutely  alone,  but  a  man 
nevertheless  who  was  ever  ready  to  answer  the  call 
of  any  one  ill.  The  Major  hated  Arth  for  the  simple 
reason  that  Arth  lived  in  one  of  Sam  Welch's  cot- 
tages, and  he  took  a  grim  joy  in  the  thought  that 
on  the  morrow  one  of  Welch's  cottages  might  be 
vacant. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       203 

Rodney  was  starting  a  fire  in  the  huge  fireplace 
in  the  living-room,  for  the  nights  were  cool,  when 
Joan  dashed  in. 

"  We'll  have  to  get  a  doctor  for  Mr.  Arth  quicker 
than  lightning,"  Joan  cried,  excitedly,  her  face 
flushed  with  excitement. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Rodney  demanded,  his 
eyes  lighting  with  the  love  light  that  always  came 
to  them  at  sight  of  Joan. 

"  He  has  lung  fever  or  pneumonia  very  bad,  and 
he'll  have  to  get  better  mighty  quick  or  die.  I  am 
sure  if  Miss  Warren  was  here  even  she  would  have 
to  admit  that  something  more  than  mortal  mind  is 
the  matter  with  him;  but  oh,  I  do  wish  she  was  here 
to  make  one  of  her  demonstrations  over  him !  " 

"What!"  Rodney  gasped,  still  struggling  with 
the  refractory  fire. 

"  I've  been  to  the  Major's  to  telephone  the  hermit 
doctor.  You  know  Mr.  Welch  said  the  other  day 
'  the  hermit  doctor  is  always  ready  to  come  to  any 
one  sick,'  but  the  Major's  'phone  is  out  of  order, 
and  now  I'll  pin  all  my  faith  on  God  and  Mona." 

The  fire  on  the  hearth  began  to  crackle  and  dance 
merrily,  giving  Joan's  eager  little  face  a  witch-like 
radiance. 

Rodney  stood  up  and  faced  her,  his  eyes  reflect- 
ing the  light  of  her  face.  "  Little  witch  girl,  count 


204       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

on  me,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  I'll  go  over  and 
see  the  poor  chap." 

"  Well,  but  we  must  hurry,"  Joan  panted,  as  she 
started  out  the  door.  "  I'm  going  for  Mona  now," 
she  flung  over  her  shoulder.  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
going  to  him,  I  know  you  are  not  well,  either,  but 
some  one  of  age  and  discretion  should  be  with  him 
now." 

"  What  ever  is  the  matter,  Joan?"  Prudence  de- 
manded. Prudence  had  come  in  the  room  so  quietly 
that  neither  Rodney  nor  the  excited  child  had  heard 
her. 

Joan  paused  an  instant  in  the  doorway.  "  It's 
Mr.  Arth,  Aunt  Prudence.  Please  go  over  to  see 
him.  He  needs  a  woman  with  him  now  if  any  one 
ever  did." 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  Prudence  gasped,  as  Joan  dis- 
appeared in  the  shadows  of  a  night  when  the  moon 
rises  late. 

"  She  has  gone  for  Mona,"  Rodney  said,  quietly, 
as  he  went  into  the  other  room  for  his  hat  and  coat. 

"  Humph !  "  Prudence  grunted,  as  she  carefully 
turned  down  the  light  in  the  living-room.  "  Rodney 
is  a  perfect  lunatic.  Joan  can  do  as  she  pleases  with 
him,  but  if  I  had  my  way  she'd  catch  it  good  and 
plenty  for  going  over  to  that  Indian's  after  night. 
Humph!" 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       205 

Joan  was  as  unceremonious  in  her  entrance  to 
Mona's  room  as  she  had  been  at  the  Major's.  Mona 
had  lived  with  her  uncle,  the  chief,  ever  since  the 
death  of  Cecilia,  and  Joan  knew  Mona's  room — a 
room  shared  with  Flying  Eagle  and  Marina,  so  lost 
no  time  in  climbing  in  through  the  open  window — a 
window  open  perforce  because  it  was  but  a  hole  in 
the  wall. 

Mona  was  alone.  She  looked  up  with  a  start 
when  Joan  stood  panting  before  her." 

"What  is  it,  little  friend?"  she  asked,  in  her 
low,  musical  voice. 

"  Mona !  Mona !  You  are  the  only  one  who  can 
save  Mr.  Arth,"  Joan  panted.  "  He  is  very,  very 
sick,  and  the  Major's  telephone  is  out  of  order. 
Only  one  of  your  people  can  save  him  now.  Some 
one  must  go  for  the  hermit  doctor  and  get  him  here 
quickly  or  Mr.  Arth  will  die,  and  we  can't  stand 
that,  Mona,  dear.  You  will  go  for  the  doctor,  won't 
you,  Mona,  dear?  I  hate  to  ask  you  to  go,  but  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  will  be  with  you,  Mona,  and  you  will 
be  going  in  His  cause,  for  you  will  go  through  love, 
Mona,  dear.  I  would  go  if  I  only  knew  the  way, 
but  I  don't,  and  I  know  you  said  one  day  you  had 
been  there.  I  will  stay  with  Mr.  Arth  and  pray  the 
dear  God  to  help  me  do  something  for  him  while 
you  are  gone." 


206       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I  go,"  Mona  said,  simply.  Then  a  troubled 
look  came  into  her  dark  eyes.  "  I  no  have  way," 
she  said,  plaintively.  "  My  uncle  he  turn  all  the 
ponies  out  to-night.  It  might  take  me  hours  to 
catch  one.  Mr.  Welch's  team  go  to  Thermal,  you 
know,  with  Miss  Reeves  and  his  sister.  And  the 
Major's  horses  turned  out  with  my  uncle's.  There 
is  nothing  left  for  Mona  to  ride." 

For  just  an  instant  Joan's  eyes  reflected  the 
troubled  look  in  Mona's,  then  they  flashed  with  in- 
spired light. 

"Mona!  Mona!  There  is  King  Solomon,"  she 
cried.  King  Solomon  was  Joan's  name  for  the  wild 
beauty  Rodney  had  purchased  from  the  Major. 

Almost  immediately  the  exalted  light  in  her  eyes 
was  followed  by  a  veil  of  disappointment.  "  But  he 
is  impossible,  I  suppose,"  she  sighed.  "  You  could 
not  ride  him." 

Mona  drew  herself  up  with  a  certain  savage 
regalness.  "  I  ride  heem  ...  I  ride  more  wild 
than  heem  many  times."  She  spread  out  her  hands. 
"  I  go  now,  my  friend.  Haste  is  needed."  Mona's 
haste  was  an  almost  incredible  haste.  In  a  marvel- 
ously  short  time  she  had  bridled  King  Solomon  and 
was  off  like  a  flash  across  the  desert,  lying  in  silent 
majesty  under  an  inky  sky  lavishly  studded  with 
glittering  star  jewels. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       207 

Mona's  dark  eyes,  as  she  clung  to  the  silky  coat 
of  the  black  horse,  were  brilliant  with  a  wonderful 
tender  light,  for  the  touch  of  Joan's  loving  parting 
kiss  was  still  sweet  upon  her  lips. 

Prudence  accompanied  Rodney  to  Arth's.  When 
Arth,  tossing  upon  his  bed,  heard  her  voice,  he 
straightened  up  with  a  heroic  effort.  "  I'll  be  all 
right  in  the  morning,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  stiff 
offer  to  do  something  for  him. 

"  Ginger  tea  is  good — I'll  make  you  some,  if  you 
wish  it,"  Prudence  offered,  still  standing  in  the  door- 
way. She  had  never  been  in  Arth's  cottage,  and  de- 
spite the  many  sick  people  in  the  village,  she  had 
neither  sympathy  nor  understanding  for  any  of 
them. 

She  had  never  been  seriously  sick  a  day  in  her 
life,  and  this  disease  was  something  she  would  have 
been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  had  she  been  afflicted 
with  it. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Arth  smiled,  with  an  effort, 
"  but  I  will  get  along  nicely,  thank  you." 

"  I'll  stay  with  Arth  a  while — you  might  as  well 
go  back  home,  Aunt  Prue,"  Rodney  said  at  last. 
His  aunt  still  stood  in  the  doorway,  undecided 
what  to  do,  and  Arth's  efforts  to  suppress  his 
great  pain  became  more  evident  each  passing 
minute. 


"  I  am  sure  I  am  more  than  willing  to  do  some- 
thing," Prudence  hesitated. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  shall  be  all  right  in  the  morn- 
ing," Arth  returned,  weakly,  a  flicker  of  a  smile 
playing  about  his  pain-drawn  mouth. 

The  woman  meant  well,  he  knew,  and  because 
she  was  Rodney's  aunt  he  would  exert  his  last 
lingering  bit  of  strength  to  be  polite  to  her.  Never- 
theless he  groaned  in  relief,  as  her  well-meaning 
footsteps  died  away. 

"  Did  you  do  something  for  him  ?  "  Joan  panted, 
as  she  came  dashing  back  from  seeing  Mona 
off. 

Prudence  was  just  turning  down  the  road  toward 
home. 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  he  is  very  sick ;  he  would 
not  let  me  do  anything  for  him,"  Prudence  an- 
swered. "  Come  on  home  to  bed,  Joan,  and  don't 
worry  yourself.  It  is  nearly  nine  o'clock.  I  de- 
clare, I  never  did  see  such  a  child." 

"  You  can  go  on  home  to  bed,  Aunt  Prudence. 
I  will  not,  until  something  is  done  for  poor  Mr. 
Arth.  I'll  do  all  I  can  for  him.  Rodney  will  help 
me,  and  we  will  trust  in  God  to  help  him  over  this 
attack.  Oh,  how  I  wish  it  were  not  Friday  night 
and  Miss  Reeves  gone ! "  Lois  had  taken  Martha 
home  with  her  that  afternoon  to  remain  until  late 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       209 

Sunday,  and  as  it  happened  there  was  no  other 
woman  in  the  village  to  whom  Joan  could  appeal. 

"  Well,  you  are  Rodney's  affair,  not  mine,  as  I 
have  said  before,  and  if  he  wants  to  let  you  act  like 
this,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  As  for  myself,  I 
shall  go  on  home  to  bed,  where  all  sensible  people 
ought  to  be.  If  your  Miss  Reeves  were  here  she 
would  do  the  same.  I  offered  to  make  the  man  some 
ginger  tea,  and  he  would  not  have  it,"  Prudence 
sniffed. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Prudence,  don't  you  know  you  don't 
want  to  offer  to  do  things  for  sick  people — you 
simply  want  to  go  ahead  and  do  them ! " 

"  Well,  Miss  Smarty,  go  ahead  and  do  things," 
Prudence  snorted,  "  but  if  I  had  the  right  I'd  march 
you  home  to  bed,  and  keep  you  there  until  you  were 
different,"  she  added,  grimly. 

Joan's  eyes  flashed,  but  she  said  nothing.  Pru- 
dence grunted  and  stalked  home  with  her  head  high 
in  the  air.  She  was  shivering  all  over  with  the  fear 
that  an  Indian  might  spring  upon  her  and  carve 
her  thin  tresses  from  her  head. 

Joan  watched  the  retreating  shadowy  bulk  of  the 
woman  for  an  instant,  then  with  a  little  catch  in 
her  breath  dashed  back  to  the  sick  man's  cottage. 
She  gave  one  look  at  Arth,  then  turned  to  Rodney. 

"  I'll  make  a  fire  and  put  some  water  on  to  boil, 


210       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney,  while  you  go  to  the  Major's  and  get  a 
can  of  antiphlogistine  from  him.  I  saw  several 
cans  on  that  shelf  back  of  the  telephone.  Mrs. 
Brown  used  to  use  whole  stacks  of  it  on  Mr.  Brown 
when  he  was  like  that."  She  nodded  over  her 
shoulder  at  Arth. 

"  All  right,  little  girl."  Rodney  tip-tilted  the  de- 
termined little  chin  with  his  long  fingers,  and  looked 
down  into  the  glowing  face  while  he  said  softly  to 
himself, — 

"  God  grant  that  she  is  always  as  she  is  now." 
He  stooped  and  kissed  the  flushed  cheeks,  and  hur- 
ried off  to  the  Major's. 

"  I've  fixed  it  for  Mr.  Brown  lots  of  times,"  Joan 
said,  briskly,  as  she  set  the  can  of  antiphlogistine 
in  the  pan  of  water,  boiling  merrily  by  the  time 
Rodney  returned.  From  the  dresser  drawer  she 
took  a  pillow  case,  calmly  ripped  it  open,  and  tore 
it  into  two  pieces  suitable  for  her  use.  "  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Welch  will  be  glad  I  took  one  of  his  pillow 
slips  for  Mr.  Arth,"  she  added,  as  she  tore  the 
slip. 

"  If  he  is  not,  we  will  buy  him  another  one  in 
place  of  this  one."  Rodney  smiled  at  the  vivid  little 
face. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  make  it  all  right,  Rodney," 
Joan  said,  briskly,  as  she  covered  the  sick  man's 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       211 

chest,  back,  and  front  with  a  lavish  coating  of  the 
hot  paste. 

Arth  smiled  at  Rodney  while  the  child  patted  and 
fixed  him  comfortably. 

"What  now?"  he  asked,  with  a  gleam  of  mirth 
in  his  eyes,  as  Joan  brought  a  basin  of  fresh  tepid 
water  to  the  bed. 

"  I'll  bathe  you,  and  your  fever  will  go  down 
some,"  she  answered,  as  she  began  to  sponge  the 
man's  burning  face. 

"  Mona  has  gone  for  the  hermit  doctor,"  she 
added,  tersely. 

Arth  smiled  and  closed  his  eyes.  For  the  first 
time  in  hours  he  was  almost  free  from  pain. 

Rodney  watched  the  child  with  the  light  of  a 
great  love  in  his  eyes.  His  dream  of  the  early 
Christmas  morning  had  come  true.  He  still  loved 
his  violin,  but  his  love  for  Joan  was  so  much  greater 
that  the  very  overwhelming  volume  of  it  made  him 
catch  his  breath  sharply.  Into  his  eyes  came  an 
almost  holy  light,  and  on  his  face  was  the  rapt  look 
with  which  the  devotee  is  pictured. 

After  a  time  Arth  slept  fitfully. 

Rodney  went  outside  and  began  to  pace  slowly 
up  and  down  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

Joan  came  out  after  a  while  and  slipped  her  hand 
in  his. 


212       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"Is  he  worse?"  Rodney  asked,  quickly. 

"  He  is  sleeping  now,  but,  Rodney,  dear,  he  could 
not  get  worse  without  dying.  I  came  out  to  get  you 
to  pray  with  me,  Rodney.  You  remember  when  I 
made  the  Indians  mad  at  me  over  punishing  Flying 
Eagle  and  Marina,  Aunt  Prudence,  Mr.  Welch,  and 
Lois  and  I  prayed  while  you  were  out  front  talking 
to  the  Major,  and  you  know  that  prayer  was  an- 
swered— so  let  us  pray  now,  Rodney,  out  here  in 
the  starlight.  It  seems  that  the  dear  God  must  be 
very  near  to  us  here  in  this  vast  beautiful  land. 
Let  us  pray  quick,  Rodney." 

"  All  right,  little  girl."  Rodney's  voice  was  very 
tender. 

So  they  prayed  out  there  on  the  crusted  sand,  and 
when  they  had  finished  the  late  moon  was  just 
peeping  up  over  the  mountain  tops,  its  silver  bars 
of  light  laid  daintily  on  the  purple  veiled  mountains. 

When  Joan  went  back  into  the  cottage,  Arth  was 
awake.  She  knelt  beside  him  and  began  to  bathe 
his  hot  forehead. 

"  Why  are  you  so  good  to  me — why  do  you  do 
this  for  me  ?  "  Arth  asked,  slowly,  his  voice  coming 
thick  and  painfully. 

Joan  dampened  her  wash-cloth  before  replying. 

"  I  love  to  do  what  I  am  doing,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  And,  beside  that,  there  is  your  mother — I  have 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       213 

just  seen  her  silver  hair  and  beautiful  tender  mother 
mouth  ever  since  you  told  me  about  her.  I  know  she 
is  in  heaven,  but  I  believe  she  is  looking  down  on  us 
now  and  is  being  glad  some  one  is  with  her  boy. 
I  can  see  her  smile  over  you  being  bathed  as  she 
would  bathe  you  were  she  here.  Don't  you  love 
to  imagine  your  mother  being  happy  over  the  things 
you  enjoy?  I  do,  I  love  to  imagine  how  happy  my 
little  mother  is  since  Rodney  took  me.  When  I  was 
being  handed  around,  I  tried  to  believe  she  could  not 
see  me,  I  was  so  unhappy  at  times,  but  now  every 
minute  of  the  day  I  want  her  to  see  me  and  know 
how  happy  I  am." 

Arth  looked  up  and  smiled  up  into  her  tender 
eyes,  shining  with  a  radiant  faraway  look. 

"  I  hope  my  mother  can  see  me  now,"  he  said, 
softly.  "  But  my  mother  always  kissed  me  when 
I  was  sick,"  he  added,  whimsically.  "  A  kiss 
is  a  blessed  thing,  Joan,  when  it  is  the  pure  sweet 
kiss  of  love." 

Joan  bent  suddenly  and  kissed  the  hot  forehead. 
"  That  is  for  your  mother,"  she  said,  sweetly. 

"  Dear  little  girl,"  Arth  murmured,  gratefully. 
It  seemed  that  the  kiss  was  the  kiss  of  his  mother. 

After  a  while  Arth  slept  again.  Suddenly  the 
night  grew  dark,  and  the  desert  seethed  and  heaved 
in  the  throes  of  a  sudden  sand-storm. 


214 

Rodney  came  in  the  cottage  looking  pale  and 
worn.  Rodney  was  slowly  regaining  his  health,  but 
Rodney  was  still  a  sick  man. 

"  Rodney !  Rodney !  You  must  lie  down,"  Joan 
cried,  as  she  looked  into  his  pale  face.  "  Please, 
please,  Rodney,  lie  down  to  please  me,"  she  pleaded, 
when  he  started  to  sit  down  beside  Arth. 

"  There  is  a  nice  cot  in  the  kitchen,"  Joan  added, 
as  she  slipped  her  hand  in  his  and  led  the  way  to- 
ward the  little  rear  room.  "  And  you  will  lie 
down,"  she  said,  firmly. 

"But  what  about  my  little  girl?"  Rodney  ex- 
postulated. 

"  She  is  very  happy,"  Joan  flashed  back,  "  and 
will  be  still  happier  if  Rodney  White  will  lie  down." 

"  You  are  the  boss,"  Rodney  returned,  in  mock 
meekness.  "  Do  with  me  as  you  will." 

Joan  smiled  at  him  radiantly  when  once  he  was 
settled  on  the  cot  with  a  comforter  over  him. 

Almost  instantly  was  the  exhausted  man  asleep, 
and  Joan  tiptoed  into  the  other  room  with  a  happy 
light  in  her  eyes. 

Arth  did  not  speak  much  as  the  night  wore  on. 
Joan  watched  and  prayed  beside  him.  Not  once  was 
her  faith  in  Mona's  return  with  the  doctor,  and 
Arth's  ultimate  recovery  shaken  in  the  least. 

The  wind  howled  and  raged  and  threw  showers 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS    ~  215 

of  sand  against  the  windows.  It  came  rushing 
across  the  desert,  swept  round  the  cottage,  and 
shook  it  in  wanton  playfulness.  It  raced  blustering 
and  whistling  up  the  rocky  sides  of  the  great  moun- 
tains, and  all  the  time  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds 
the  desert  moon  looked  calmly  down  on  the  desert's 
dashing  concerto. 

"  Joan,  am  I  going  to  die  ?  "  Arth  asked  at  last. 
The  strength  had  all  gone  out  of  the  man ;  he  could 
no  longer  battle  with  the  suffocating  pains  in  his 
lungs. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  will  never  be  able  to  even  imagine 
that  disease  is  an  illusion  of  mortal  mind  after  this," 
Joan  said,  slowly.  "  The  Bible  speaks  of  being  sick 
unto  death,  and  you  are  really  and  truly  sick,  there 
is  no  imagination  about  it,  but  you've  got  the  grit 
to  pull  through,  and  God  answers  prayer.  Rodney 
and  I  prayed  most  earnestly  and  faithfully  for  you 
to  recover  while  we  were  out  in  front  of  the  house 
before  the  storm  came,  and  I  am  sure  God  will 
answer  that  prayer.  No,  I  honestly  do  not  believe 
you  are  going  to  die  now,"  she  said,  gravely. 

Arth  turned  his  face  to  the  wall.  Joan  saw  the 
shadow  of  a  great  fear  upon  it,  so  hastened  to  re- 
assure him. 

"  Don't  worry  about  it,"  she  said,  with  assumed 
cheerfulness.  "  You'll  never  die  until  the  Lord  of 


216       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Hosts  is  ready  for  you.  When  He  is  ready,  you  will 
be  glad  to  go  to  Him.  Just  think  how  beautiful  the 
shining  kingdom  is.  Don't  you  remember  the  beauti- 
ful psalm  ?  '  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil:  for 
Thou  art  with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  com- 
fort me!'" 

Arth  had  heard  that  verse  many  times,  but  now 
he  clung  to  it  desperately,  for  it  brought  with  it  a 
strange  comforting  peace  he  had  never  felt  before. 
He  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes;  his  pain  was  for- 
gotten. 

"  '  Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.'  Yes, 
yes,"  he  murmured.  "  It  is  all  right  either  way, 
little  girl.  I  am  ready  now.  I  told  Rodney,  a  long 
time  ago,  you  would  help  me  die  like  a  Christian 
should,  and  you  will,  little  girl.  '  Surely  goodness 
and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life, 
and  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever,'  ' 
he  quoted  softly;  then  he  smiled  brightly.  "  It's  all 
right  now,"  he  murmured,  as  he  slowly  repeated 
the  words  again,  "  '  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  forever.'  Joan,"  he  said,  reaching  out  a 
burning  hand  until  it  rested  in  hers,  "  all  my  letters 
are  in  my  suit-case.  I — I  don't  want  any  one  to 
see  them  but  you — until  I  am  well  again.  You 
understand?  " 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS      217 

Joan  nodded. 

"  And — and  if  I  go  to  my  mother,  she  shall  know 
that  I  had  loving  hands  about  me  at  the  last,  for  I 
shall  tell  her." 

Joan  gently  stroked  his  hand. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  now;  "  his  voice  grew  steadier. 
"  And  Joan,  dear  little  Joan,  I  owe  not  being  afraid 
to  you.  There  is  one  other  thing,  Joan,  I  have  a 
wife — she  left  me,  but  I  was  stiff-necked  and  caused 
it — I  believe  she  loves  me  yet.  Her  address  is  in 
my  note-book  in  my  vest  pocket.  Please  get  my 
note-book  now  and  keep  it  until — well  until  it  is 
all  over,  and  then  write  to  her.  Tell  her  I  loved 
her  always.  I  love  her  now,  oh  my  God,  how  I 
love  her!"  His  voice  grew  fainter  and  trailed 
away.  After  a  minute  he  spoke  again. 

"You  have  my  note-book,  Joan?" 

"  Yes,"  Joan  answered,  softly. 

"  Please  give  me  the  little  picture  out  of  it — it  is 
her  picture." 

When  Joan  gave  him  the  little  picture,  he  clutched 
it  to  his  lips  with  a  half  articulate  cry  of  joy. 
"  Jeanette!  Jeanette!  My  Jeanette,"  he  said,  softly, 
over  and  over. 

Joan  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  on  the 
storm-scourged  night.  The  sand  still  beat  against  the 
windows,  but  less  fiercely  than  it  had  an  hour  ago. 


218       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

She  turned  at  the  sound  of  Arth's  voice. 

"  Pray,  Joan — the  Lord's  Prayer,"  he  called 
faintly. 

Joan  dropped  to  her  knees,  "  '  Our  Father  who 
art  in  Heaven,'  "  she  began,  then  stopped  suddenly. 
There  were  hoof-beats  coming  down  the  road — com- 
ing in  mad  haste. 

"  The  doctor ! "  she  cried,  springing  to  her 
feet. 

The  doctor  sprang  from  his  horse,  as  she  opened 
the  door.  Mona  slipped  from  the  back  of  King 
Solomon  and  flung  her  arms  about  Joan's  neck. 

Joan  kissed  her  in  silent  rapture;  then  turned  to 
the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  doctor !  Doctor !  "  she  cried.  "  The  Lord 
has  been  more  than  good  to  bring  you  here  in  such 
a  storm,  but  please  hurry  in.  He  is  sick — really 
and  truly  sick.  There  is  no  imagination  of  mortal 
mind  about  it." 

The  hermit  doctor  smiled  at  the  odd  greeting, 
then  hurried  in  to  the  sick  man. 

Arth's  breath  was  coming  with  a  rasping  noise, 
and  his  head  rolled  back  and  forth  on  the  pillow  in 
a  vain  search  for  rest. 

"  Do  you  want  some  hot  water,  doctor  ?  "  Joan 
asked. 

The  doctor  nodded.     With  his  ear  at  the  sick 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       219 

man's  chest,  he  listened  at  the  labored  breathing. 
His  eyes  were  alert,  an  indomitable  light  in  them 
as  he  went  to  work. 

An  hour  later  Arth  was  sleeping  peacefully,  the 
flush  gone  from  his  face,  his  breath  coming  less 
painfully. 

Defeated  death  wrapped  her  dark  robes  about 
her  and  left  the  village  in  the  wake  of  the  sand- 
storm. 

The  hermit  doctor  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Joan's 
tumbled  hair,  as  Rodney  came  into  the  room. 

"  She  saved  him,"  the  doctor  said,  as  he  greeted 
Rodney. 

"  Oh,  it  is  good,  good  to  know  he  is  saved ! " 
Joan  cried,  "  but  I  was  only  one  instrument  that 
God  put  here  to  help  him  until  you  came,  and  Mona 
brought  you,  doctor.  Mona  was  another  of  God's 
instruments." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  blankly.  This  was  his 
first  visit  to  the  village  since  the  advent  of  Joan. 

Rodney  gathered  the  child  up  in  his  arms,  and 
smiled  at  the  doctor. 

"  She  is  the  dearest  and  bravest  little  girl  in  the 
world,  doctor,  with  a  wonderful  and  sublime  faith 
in  the  Infinite,"  Rodney  said,  gently. 

"  A  wonderful  and  sublime  faith  in  the  Infinite," 
the  hermit  doctor  repeated  to  himself,  after  Rodney 


220       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

and  Joan  had  gone  and  he  was  alone  with  the  sick 
man. 

"  Well,  such  namby-pamby  Sunday  School  belief 
is  all  right  for  children,"  he  said,  with  a  short  laugh, 
as  he  walked  across  the  room  and  looked  out  over 
the  desert.  The  moon  hung  low  in  the  sky  now,  and 
earth  and  heaven  met  in  a  flood  of  silver  light. 

"  A  wonderful  and  sublime  faith  in  the  Infinite," 
the  doctor  again  repeated  the  words  almost  uncon- 
sciously. The  next  instant  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders in  self-disgust.  He  had  convinced  himself 
during  the  hours  he  had  spent  alone  in  his  self- 
imposed  isolation,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a 
soul  or  a  soul's  immortality.  No  God.  No  life  be- 
yond the  grave.  He  took  a  certain  pride  in  pro- 
claiming to  the  desert,  stretching  itself  in  majestic 
silence  about  him,  that  he  was  an  agnostic;  that  he 
had  risen  superior  to  all  canting  religious  dogma. 
He  prided  himself  on  his  renunciation  of  the  ortho- 
dox religion  of  his  forefathers;  flattered  himself 
that  he  had  discovered  the  highest  law  of  life — life 
that  ended  at  dissolution — when  he  discovered  that 
there  was  no  soul,  no  God. 

Belief  in  spirituality  was,  so  he  argued  to  the 
silent  desert,  something  for  old  women  and  weak 
men  to  cant  about  over  their  tea.  What  need  of 
such  belief  had  a  strong  man?  According  to  him 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       221 

the  utter  heartlessness  and  aimlessness  of  God — if 
there  was  a  God — had  been  proven  in  his  own  case. 

Hadn't  he  called  upon  God  in  his  hour  of  despair 
— he  had  believed  in  God  then — but  how  could  any 
sane  man  continue  to  believe  in  Infinite  Love  when 
the  supposed  God  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  one  pleading 
for  something  more  precious  than  life  itself.  He 
struck  his  open  palm  with  hard-clenched  knuckles. 
"  No !  A  thousand  times  no,  there  is  no  God,"  he 
cried  aloud,  forgetting  that  he  was  not  alone  as 
he  had  been  the  last  long  years. 

The  sick  man  stirred  and  mumbled  faintly, 
" '  And  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for- 
ever.' " 

The  doctor  scowled  at  the  sick  man,  his  brows 
creased  in  anger.  "  What  right  has  he?  "  he  de- 
manded of  his  inner  self,  "  what  right  has  he  to 
say  those  words  now"  Then  he  smiled  remi- 
niscently.  How  often  his  stern  old  father  had 
quoted  those  words  to  him — they  were  the  last  words 
his  mother  ever  spoke.  Close  on  the  heels  of  this 
memory  came  the  words  of  Mona,  the  half-breed, 
that  same  night  when  he  asked  her  if  she  had  not 
been  afraid  on  her  long,  lonely  ride.  He  could 
almost  see  her  fathomless  eyes  now,  could  almost 
hear  the  low-voiced  words,  "  I,  Mona,  was  not 
afraid,  her  Lord  of  Hosts  was  with  me." 


222       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

He  had  wondered  then  at  the  words  of  the  little 
half-breed,  now  he  knew  that  she  had  referred  to 
the  odd  child,  who  had  saved  the  life  of  the  sick 
man,  and  whose  clear  blue  eyes,  with  the  vivid 
dashes  of  gold  in  the  iris,  were  so  hauntingly  fami- 
liar of  other  eyes  that  had  once  smiled  at  him. 

The  odd  child  had  called  herself  an  instrument 
of  God.  He  sat  down  by  the  sick  man.  If  there 
was  a  God  surely  he  would  not  let  any  one  suffer 
as  this  man  had  suffered  this  night.  "  Bah,  it  is 
all  a  farce,  this  belief  in  God — but  is  it  a  farce?  " 

The  sick  man  muttered  in  his  sleep.  "  '  I  shall 
dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever ' — yes,  for- 
ever, little  Joan." 

"  Joan !  Joan !  "  The  doctor  repeated  the  word 
over  and  over.  "  Joan !  Joan !  "  Cold  sweat  broke 
out  all  over  him.  It  was  years  since  he  had  heard 
that  name — years  since  he  had  even  allowed  himself 
to  think  of  it — and  now  this  sick  man  called  some 
one  Joan — was  it  the  odd  child?  The  name  would 
fit  her.  He  got  up  slowly,  like  a  man  suddenly 
stricken  with  age.  He  opened  the  door  softly,  and 
went  out  into  the  night.  Up  and  down,  back  and 
forth  he  paced  in  front  of  the  little  cottage — back 
and  forth  over  the  very  spot  where  Rodney  and 
Joan  had  knelt  in  prayer  a  few  hours  before. 

Toward  morning,  peace  came  to  the  man — peace 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       223 

and  a  new  understanding.  He  entered  the  cottage, 
his  face  radiant  with  the  light  of  the  new  joy  that 
had  come  to  him. 

"  Eternity !  Eternity !  "  he  whispered  in  reveren- 
tial awe,  looking  down  on  the  peaceful  face  of  the 
sleeping  man. 

"  Yes,  old  chap,  you  will  '  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  forever,'  and  even  I  may  also  dwell  there 
with  you  some  day.  I  was  blind,  but  now  I  see. 
I  see!  Thank  God,  I  see!  I  understand!  Thank 
God  for  you  and  the  child  '  with  a  wonderful  and 
sublime  faith  in  the  Infinite.'  How  true  it  is  '  A 
little  child  shall  lead  them '  .  .  .  Yes,  and  thank 
God,  too,  for  the  little  half-breed,"  he  added,  with 
a  tender,  reminiscent  smile.  "She  said  the  little 
half-breed  was  also  God's  instrument.  And  so  she 
was — so  she  was."  He  looked  down  on  Arth  again. 
"  Your  life  is  prolonged  by  this  night's  work,  old 
chap,  and  my  soul  is  saved.  How  wonderful  are 
the  ways  of  the  Lord.  Old  chap,  I,  too,  am  saved." 

The  hermit  doctor  stayed  at  the  village  several 
days,  and  from  Lois  Reeves  and  Arth  had  a  clear 
account  of  Joan.  When  he  started  to  leave,  he  took 
Joan's  hands  in  his  and  said  gravely :  "  You  have 
done  more  for  me,  little  girl,  than  you  will  ever 
know.  I  needed  saving  a  thousand  times  more  than 
poor  Arth  did.  Arth  was  square  with  his  God  when 


224       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

I  came  to  him.  I  was  not.  You  must  not  hope  for 
Arth's  complete  recovery,  little  Joan.  Some  time  he 
will  not  recover,  no  matter  how  quickly  I  get  to  him, 
but  you  have  saved  a  soul  for  all  time.  I  am  going 
back  to  Seven  Pine  Lodge  now,  but  I  shall  not  go 
alone.  I  am  coming  back,  too,  for  that  birthday 
party  of  yours,  and  sooner  if  you  need  me." 

Joan  smiled  at  him,  but  her  heart  was  heavy 
because  there  was  no  hope  for  Arth's  complete  re- 
covery. Joan  was  very  fond  of  the  dark,  silent 
man,  and  she  prayed  now,  as  the  hermit  doctor  rode 
away,  that  Arth  would  live  long  enough  to  see  his 
wife. 

That  very  morning  she  had,  with  Rodney's 
approval,  written  a  letter  to  Arth's  wife,  in  which 
she  gave  a  characteristic  and  accurate  account  of 
Arth's  almost  fatal  attack  and  his  present  serious 
condition. 

She  did  not  tell  Arth  of  this  letter.  She  knew 
that  he  intended  for  her  to  write  to  his  wife  only  in 
case  of  his  death,  but  it  had  seemed  right  to  both  her 
and  Rodney  for  Arth's  wife  to  know  of  his  condi- 
tion. They  both  hoped  Arth's  wife  would  come  to 
him  immediately  upon  receipt  of  the  letter.  From 
Sam  Welch,  Joan  secured  a  railroad  time-table,  and 
began  to  count  the  hours  that  must  elapse  before 
Jeanette  Arth  could  reach  her  sick  husband. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       225 

Each  day  she  and  Mona  spent  an  hour  or  more 
at  the  Cave  of  Rest.  They  held  a  prayer  service 
there.  Joan  prayed  daily  for  Jeanette  Arth  to  come 
quickly,  the  prayers  growing  in  length  and  fervor 
as  the  days  passed  and  no  word  came  from  the  sick 
man's  wife. 

Mona,  at  Joan's  request,  had  mastered  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  each  day  she  repeated  it  after  Joan,  and 
to  Joan,  Mona's  part  of  the  prayer  service  was 
something  very  sweet. 

Each  passing  day  Mona  grew  more  and  more  like 
her  white  father.  Looking  into  her  face,  lighted  by 
the  great  gray  eyes,  Rodney  found  it  hard  to  believe 
that  the  blood  of  the  great  Fighting  Wolf  flowed 
in  her  veins. 

Mona  had  received  the  warm  praise  of  every  one, 
except  the  Major,  for  her  wild  ride  on  King  Solo- 
mon. Even  Prudence  had  openly  expressed  her 
admiration  for  such  bravery.  Prudence  was  not  a 
little  ashamed  over  the  part  she  had  played  that 
night.  She  had  been  unusually  kind  to  Joan  ever 
since,  and  was  planning  with  Rodney  and  Lois 
Reeves  for  the  birthday  party  they  were  to  give 
Joan  and  Mona  on  the  first  of  May.  As  nearly  as 
any  one  could  learn,  Mona's  natal  day  was  the  same 
as  Joan's,  and  this  to  Joan  was  a  thrilling  thought 
over  which  to  rejoice. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  the  morning  of  her  birthday,  Joan  was  up 
and  out  while  the  moon  still  hung  pale  in 
the  sky,  flanked  by  a  myriad  of  stars  just 
beginning  to  twinkle  their  last  farewell  to  the  night, 
before  the  curtain  of  dawn  was  flung  across  them 
with  the  promise  of  a  glorious  day  written  rose- 
hued  upon  it. 

Joan  stood  on  the  lower  step  of  the  cottage,  revel- 
ing in  the  beauty  of  the  morning,  while  Don, 
at  her  feet,  rolled  in  ecstasy,  gleaming  like  a 
ball  of  gold  against  the  dull  glow  of  the  crusted 
sand. 

To  Joan,  the  desert  was  ever  calling  with  an  in- 
sistent voice.  The  shifting  sand  hills  ever  held  out 
beckoning,  rippling  arms  to  her.  To  her,  the  desert 
never  seemed  harsh  or  ugly  even  when  a  burn- 
ing, scorching  heat  fell  upon  it,  withering  even 
the  scant  vegetation  to  which  it  gave  reluctant 
sustenance. 

It  was  given  to  Joan  to  see  the  soul  of  things,  not 
the  body  alone. 

She  heard  the  song  of  the  desert,  every  note  of 
226 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       227 

it  ringing  true.  The  song  the  desert  sings  may  be 
an  adagio  of  pain  and  distress  or  an  allegro  of  de- 
lirium and  death,  but  through  it  all  there  is  that 
distinct  and  flowing  undercurrent  of  divine  peace 
found  nowhere  else. 

Joan  was  atune  with  the  harmony  of  it  all.  She 
answered  the  desert's  call  with  a  soul  as  sincere  as 
the  desert  itself — answered  it  even  as  she  had  an- 
swered the  call  of  Rodney's  violin. 

To  her,  the  morning  stars  were  ever  singing  in 
a  very  exuberance  of  joy  because  they  were  per- 
mitted to  shine  on  a  land  so  hallowed — so  full  of 
strength — so  full  of  silence,  that  vast  uncompre- 
hending silence  where  the  soul  of  man  may  come 
into  its  own  fullness  of  strength. 

One  by  one  the  stars  faded  away  and  the  rising 
sun  flung  rosy  streamers  of  Celestial  fire  athwart 
the  pale  gray  sky. 

Suddenly,  in  the  sky,  high  above  the  Cave  of 
Rest,  there  appeared  a  magic  city.  A  city  of  golden 
streets,  trodden  by  radiant  celestial  beings. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  It  must  be  a  glimpse  of  heaven," 
Joan  cried. 

And  then  the  city  was  gone  and  the  sun  shot 
upward,  a  glorious  trail  of  fire  marking  its  path- 
way through  the  blue,  blue  sky. 

Joan  never   forgot  that  matchless  dawn.     She 


228       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

stood  for  a  moment  in  awed  silence,  then  cried, 
"  Oh,  Father  in  Heaven,  I  thank  thee  for  the 
glimpse  of  the  shining  kingdom." 

The  barking  of  the  dogs  in  the  Indian  village, 
followed  by  the  tumbling  of  half-clad  Indian  chil- 
dren out  of  the  shacks,  brought  her  back  to  the 
earth  and  things  earthy. 

Although  Joan  had  not  mentioned  the  fact  to 
any  one,  she  had  been  secretly  thrilling  with  the 
thought  of  riding  King  Solomon  ever  since  Mona's 
wild  ride  for  the  hermit  doctor.  Each  day  she 
made  a  visit  to  the  corral  with  an  offering  of  a 
lump  of  sugar  and  the  big  black  beauty  ever  greeted 
her  with  a  welcoming  whinny. 

Many  were  the  fairy  tales  Joan  had  woven  about 
King  Solomon — King  Solomon  with  his  proudly 
dilating  nostrils,  sweeping  mane  and  tail,  and  glossy 
black  satin  skin. 

Joan  had  almost  convinced  herself  that  King 
Solomon  was  enchanted  and  could  be  ridden  only 
by  those  who  had  won  the  favor  of  the  magician 
who  had  control  of  him. 

Mona  was  one  of  the  favored  ones,  who  could 
safely  ride  him — Joan  believed  she  was  also  one 
who  could  in  safety  ride  the  beauty. 

Joe,  the  Indian,  whom  Rodney  had  hired  to  con- 
quer King  Solomon,  had  made  one  attempt  in  that 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       229 

direction  and  was  now  nursing  a  broken  arm  be- 
cause of  it. 

But  Joe's  misfortune  was  not  even  weighed  in 
the  balance  with  desire  and  Mona's  achievement. 
How  could  it  be  by  one  of  Joan's  temperament  ? 

Joan  flung  her  arms  about  Don's  neck  and  whis- 
pered something  in  his  ear.  Don  wagged  his  tail 
and  barked  joyfully. 

"  Come  on,  Don,"  Joan  called,  aloud,  and  started 
down  the  road  to  Sam  Welch's  corral. 

Rodney  got  to  the  cottage  door  just  as  Joan  was 
disappearing  in  the  distance  on  top  of  King  Solo- 
mon. Rodney  never  forgot  the  anguish  of  the 
minutes  that  followed — minutes  that  were  eternities 
of  time. 

"  O  Lord,  she'll  be  killed  and " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Joan  came  tear- 
ing back  on  the  big  black;  her  hair  was  flying,  her 
eyes  dancing,  and  she  was  laughing — laughing  out 
loud.  Light  and  easy  she  pulled  the  horse  up  be- 
side the  steps,  and  called  out,  "  Oh,  Rodney !  Rod- 
ney! this  is  lovely,  this  is  magnificent,  this  is 
almost  too  good  to  be  true.  See,  he  is  enchanted, 
Rodney!" 

Truly  King  Solomon  did  seem  enchanted  to  Rod- 
ney, an  enchanted  demon,  his  sensitive  nostrils  were 
dilated,  clouds  of  steam  came  from  them,  as  King 


230       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Solomon  restlessly  pawed  the  sandy  ground  in 
impatient  desire  to  be  off  across  the  glistening 
sand. 

"  Get  off  that  brute,"  Rodney  growled,  making 
a  reach  for  the  bit,  but  the  animal  shied,  whirled, 
and  nearly  kicked  his  head  off.  So  he  stood  quite 
still  in  a  daze  of  terror  while  Joan  circled  about  on 
the  horse,  quieting  him  again. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  an  enchanted  horse, 
Rodney  ? "  Joan  demanded,  as  she  was  circling 
about.  "  Isn't  it  splendid  that  Mona  taught  me  to 
ride  this  winter,  now  I  can  ride  him  every  day.  I 
had  hoped  you  could  master  him,  too,  but  it  seems 
that  only  Mona  and  I  can  do  that,  although  Miss 
Reeves  might  be  another  one." 

Rodney  heard  little  of  what  Joan  was  saying. 

"  She'll  be  killed,  she'll  be  killed,"  he  moaned 
over  and  over,  his  voice  trembling  with  anguish. 

"  Get  off,  please,  Joan,"  he  pleaded,  as  the  beau- 
tiful animal  was  at  last  brought  to  a  standstill  before 
the  steps.  Joan  was  off  in  an  instant,  light  and 
graceful  as  the  fairies  she  so  dearly  loved  to  im- 
agine existed  somewhere  out  there  across  the 
stretch  of  sand  between  her  and  the  shifting  sand 
hills. 

The  horse  never  stirred  while  she  patted  him  on 
his  silky  nose. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       231 

"  Go  into  the  house,  Joan,"  Rodney  commanded, 
as  fierce  as  a  wounded  bear. 

Joan  clipped  her  lips  together.  "  I'll  take  King 
Solomon  back  to  the  corral  first,"  she  returned,  with 
•  a  trace  of  anger  in  her  low  voice. 

Rodney  faced  her  and  his  eyes  were  stern  and 
hard  as  he  repeated,  "  Go  on  into  the  house,  Joan." 

"  What  is  the  trouble?  "  came  the  mournful  voice 
of  Sam  Welch. 

Welch  had  missed  King  Solomon  and  had  fol- 
lowed his  hoofprints  to  Rodney's  cottage,  never 
dreaming  for  an  instant  that  Joan  had  taken  the 
wild  animal  from  the  corral. 

"  I  rode  King  Solomon  and  it  worried  Rodney," 
Joan  began,  eagerly,  as  Rodney  still  stood  there 
silent,  stern,  unyielding.  He  was  too  weak  to 
move.  All  life  and  vigor  seemed  to  have  left  his 
body. 

"  King  Solomon  is  enchanted,  Mr.  Welch,"  Joan 
continued.  "  Mona  and  I  can  ride  him  in  perfect 
safety.  I  had  hoped  Rodney  could  ride  him,  but 
King  Solomon  will  not  even  allow  Rodney  to  touch 
him." 

Welch  smiled  whimsically  as  Joan  rapidly  and 
animatedly  sketched  her  early  greeting  to  the  day 
and  her  sudden  intention  to  surprise  Rodney  with 
her  equestrian  ability. 


232       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney's  face  softened  as  a  pleading  note  crept 
into  the  child's  voice. 

"  Mr.  Welch  will  take  King  Solomon  back,  dear," 
he  said  at  last,  very  tenderly.  "  You  are  willing, 
are  you  not  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  Joan  answered,  calmly,  a  wist- 
ful light  in  her  expressive  eyes. 

Rodney  had  never  spoken  harshly  to  her  before, 
and  her  heart  was  like  a  leaden  weight.  All  the 
beauty  of  the  morning  was  gone  for  her. 

Welch  spat  on  the  sand  reflectively;  then  wiped 
his  mouth  with  a  great  red  bandanna  handkerchief. 

"  Reckon  you'd  best  be  some  easy  with  her,"  he 
said  to  Rodney.  "  She's  the  grittiest  girl-child  I 
ever  saw.  Rode  this  brute,  whew-ee!  I  call  that 
going  some!  Well,  I'll  be  going,  but  go  easy  with 
her,  son,  go  easy  with  a  high-strung  girl-child  like 
that." 

He  turned  and  walked  slowly,  solemnly  away, 
wagging  his  head,  while  King  Solomon  jerked  rest- 
lessly at  the  reins  Welch  gripped  tight  in  his  strong 
hand. 

"Think  of  it!"  Welch  addressed  the  desert. 
"  A  little  thing  like  her,  no  bigger  than  a  pound  of 
soap  after  a  hard  day's  washing,  riding  a  horse  like 
this  one.  Whew-ee!  Of  course  Mona  rode  him, 
but  an  Indian  is  different,  someway.  They  may  be 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       233 

all  human,  but  they  don't  seem  it  to  me."  He  spat 
on  the  ground  again  with  great  dexterity,  then 
stopped  and  eyed  King  Solomon  tentatively. 

"  I'd  ride  you  myself  if  I  only  had  the  backbone 
of  that  little  tyke  back  there,"  he  addressed  King 
Solomon  now. 

King  Solomon  snorted  in  seeming  disdain  and 
shied  at  some  imaginary  foe. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  not  ride  you  yet  awhile — if  ever." 
Welch  wagged  his  head  sorrowfully.  "  Haven't 
got  the  backbone  to  do  it.  Whew-ee !  " 

"  Joan  rode  this  thing,"  he  announced,  mourn- 
fully, to  Arth,  as  he  passed  the  sick  man's  cottage. 

"  Oh,  my  Lord !  "  Arth's  face  blanched,  as  he 
leaned  weakly  against  the  door  for  support. 

"  Yep,  she  did,"  Welch  repeated.  "  And  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  is  something  I  wouldn't  do 
myself.  Whoa!  Whoa,  there,  you  brute."  He 
pulled  King  Solomon  back  from  an  attempt  to  make 
a  dash  across  the  desert  that  called  him  to  its 
alluring  mysteries. 

Welch  enjoyed  himself  that  morning,  as  he  made 
a  round  of  the  village,  recounting  in  his  solemn  way 
Joan's  exploit  of  the  early  morning. 

When  Welch  had  gone,  Rodney  drew  Joan  to 
him. 

"  I  was  not  so  cross  as  I  was  hurt  and  fright- 


234       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ened,  dear,"  he  said,  softly.  "  You  won't  ride  that 
beast  again,  will  you  ?  " 

Joan  nestled  in  his  arms  with  a  happy  sigh. 

"  I  will  not  ride  him  again,  if  you  do  not  wish 
it,  Rodney,  but  I  assure  you  Mona  and  I  are  per- 
fectly safe  on  him. 

"  I  like  him  because  he  is  gingery.  The  old  pinto 
I  have  been  riding  is  so  slow  and  unimaginative, 
and  I  know  King  Solomon  is  just  bursting  with 
imagination,  but  I'll  try  in  the  future  to  believe  the 
pinto  is  like  he  was  this  morning.  I  am  full  of 
thrills  yet  over  my  brief  flight  on  King  Solomon. 
And,  Rodney  dear,  I  am  not  ungrateful  for  being 
allowed  to  ride  the  pinto."  She  drew  back  from 
him,  with  face  aglow. 

"  A  year  ago  I  never  dreamed  I  would  ever  ride 
anything  so  nice  as  the  pinto,  and  I  assure  you  I 
will  clip  my  aspirations  to  ride  King  Solomon.  You 
do  not  mind  my  petting  him  with  the  corral  bars 
between  us,  do  you,  Rodney?  I  have  been  doing 
that  ever  since  you  had  him.  He  is  very  fond  of 
sugar,  and  I  am  sure  he  would  miss  that  attention. 
He  is  such  a  sensitive  and  misunderstood  animal." 

It  was  news  to  Rodney — this  having  petted  King 
Solomon  all  winter,  but  it  explained  in  a  measure 
the  animal's  allowing  Mona  and  Joan  to  ride  him, 
for  Rodney  shrewdly  guessed  that  Joan's  shadow, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       235 

as  he  called  Mona,  was  present  at  these  daily  visits. 

"  And  you  will  ride  the  pinto,  if  I  ask  it,  will 
you,  little  girl  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  will.  I  would  do  anything  for  you, 
Rodney." 

Rodney,  looking  into  her  glowing  eyes,  realized 
that  the  child's  love  for  him  was  a  truly  great  and 
precious  love  to  be  treasured  and  cared  for  with 
unceasing  tenderness  and  patience. 

"  What  a  witch  of  a  child  she  is,"  he  mused. 
"  Moonlight  and  dawn — fire  and  dew  turned  into 
a  girl.  Her  feet  may  be  on  the  ground,  but  her 
fancy  is  ever  mounted  on  pinions." 

How  well  he  knew  that  the  child  retired  to  her 
citadel  of  dreams,  even  while  her  hands  mechan- 
ically and  correctly  obeyed  the  dictates  of  her  sub- 
conscious mind  while  she  performed  the  few  house- 
hold tasks  allotted  her  by  Prudence.  How  many 
times  he  had  seen  her  emerge  from  her  fancies  re- 
freshed and  radiant  as  one  who  catches  the  measure 
of  the  song  of  the  elements. 

Suddenly  he  came  out  of  his  reverie.  Joan  was 
saying,  passionately,  "  For  you — for  you — I'd  do 
anything  imagined  by  the  mind  of  man.  If  you 
wished  it,  I'd  follow  you  across  the  desert  in  the 
fiercest  heat  of  the  day.  I'd  follow  you  as  long  as  I 
could  walk  and  when  I  couldn't  walk,  I'd  crawl, 


236       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

and  when  I  couldn't  crawl "  She  stopped  for  a 

moment,  at  a  loss  for  a  word  to  express  the  image 
she  had  evoked  of  herself  following  Rodney  across 
the  desert  under  the  torturing  glare  of  the  noonday 
sun. 

"  Then  what  ? "  Rodney  demanded,  his  eyes 
sparkling. 

"  Why,  I'd  wriggle  on  after  you  until  my  tongue 
hung  out  of  my  mouth  and  my  strength  utterly 
failed,  and  then  I'd  die  rejoicing  because  the  Lord 
of  Hosts  had  given  me  the  strength  to  follow  you 
as  far  as  I  did.  And  when  I  fell  by  the  wayside, 
you  would  turn  back  and  sit  beside  me,  and  in  your 
heart  you  would  be  glad  that  I  had  loved  you  as 

I  do  and — and "  the  vision  became  so  real,  her 

eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney !  " 
she  cried,  "  I  never  want  to  die  and  leave  you, 
I  want  to  live  with  you  always." 

Rodney  drew  her  to  him,  looking  deep  into  her 
somber  eyes. 

"  I  pray  we  may  never  be  separated,  little  girl," 
he  said,  softly. 

Joan  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  arm  he  had 
about  her,  and  so  for  a  long  interval  they  stood 
there  in  the  silence  which  is  the  sweetest  gift  of 
friendship  and  love. 

Prudence  broke  the  silence  by  a  call  to  break- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       237 

fast.  They  were  still  at  the  table  enjoying  a  tri- 
umph of  her  culinary  skill — a  superb  breakfast  not 
shared  by  the  Major,  much  to  the  joy  of  Rod- 
ney and  Joan— when  a  knock  came  at  the  front 
door. 

Prudence  was  also  secretly  glad  that  just  they 
three  shared  that  birthday  breakfast — Prudence  had 
never  felt  secure  with  the  Major  since  the  night  of 
the  Indian  powwow  and  dance — in  fact  the  star  of 
the  mournful  Welch  was  now  steadily  ascending 
Love's  zenith. 

Rodney  answered  the  knock  at  the  door.  He 
came  back  visibly  pleased. 

"  Was  it  Mona  ?  "  Joan  demanded,  eagerly. 

"  Not  Mona,  and  no  more  questions,  little  girl. 
People  should  never  ask  questions  on  a  day  like 
this." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  Joan  cried,  ecstatically.  "It  is 
going  to  be  another  of  your  surprises.  I  am 
just  quivering  all  over  at  the  very  thought  of  it. 
I  am  too  happy  for  anything. 

"  Do  you  know  this  is  the  first — the  very  first 
birthday  I  ever  had  when  I  could  feel  in  my  very 
bones  that  some  delightful  something  was  going 
to  happen  to  me.  I  was  so  full  of  thrills  this 
morning  I  just  had  to  ride  King  Solomon — he 
seemed  to  fit  right  in  with  my  feelings — and  then 


238       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

I  thought  it  would  be  such  a  surprise  to  you, 
Rodney." 

She  sighed. 

"  It  was  a  surprise,"  Rodney  returned,  dryly. 

"  Well,  eat  your  breakfast,"  Prudence  snapped, 
but  her  voice  had  a  note  of  amusement  in  it  for 
all  of  its  seeming  harshness. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  Joan  was  in  the  clouds 
again.  Her  fork  was  poised  in  mid-air,  a  juicy 
bite  of  delicately  fried  ham  on  it. 

Joan  came  back  to  earth  with  another  long-drawn 
sigh. 

"  What  now  ?  "  Rodney  demanded,  hiding  his 
twitching  lips  with  his  hand. 

"  I  was  just  imagining  whatever  could  have  come 
to  the  door.  Oh,  I  am  simply  thrilling  so  that  I 
cannot  eat !  " 

"  That  imagination  of  yours  will  be  the  death 
of  you  some  day,"  Prudence  said,  though  not  un- 
kindly. 

"  I  suppose  I  do  seem  sort  of  crazy  to  you,  Aunt 
Prudence,"  Joan  said,  with  a  wry  little  smile. 
"  You  are  so  matter  of  fact — and — and  reliable." 

"  There's  a  dandy  compliment  for  you,  Aunt 
Prue,"  Rodney  laughed. 

A  flush  swept  over  the  woman's  face,  softening 
it  until  Rodney  was  surprised  at  the  glimpse  of 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       239 

tenderness  for  an  instant  revealed  before  the  every- 
day mask  slipped  back  over  the  face  of  the  real 
woman — the  woman  making  an  unconscious  strug- 
gle to  awaken  from  the  lethargy  of  sternness  that 
had  held  her  captive  through  all  the  years  when  the 
tenderness  of  a  woman's  heart  is  usually  written 
upon  her  face  and  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  I  am  reliable,"  Prudence 
jerked  out. 

"  Indeed  you  are  reliable,  Aunt  Prudence.  That 
word  suits  you  exactly.  You  would  no  more  think 
of  doing  such  a  wild  thing,  as  Rodney  thinks  I 
did  when  I  rode  King  Solomon  this  morning,  than 
would  that  mountain  over  there." 

She  nodded  toward  the  mountain,  revealed 
through  the  window,  a  misty,  purple-veiled  guardian 
of  the  desert  world,  outlined  against  a  sky  serene. 

"  Humph,"  Prudence  ejaculated,  but  she  was 
pleased  nevertheless. 

"So  you  rode  King  Solomon,  did  you?"  she 
asked.  "  The  Lord  only  knows  what  you  will  do 
next,  but  I  must  say  you  are  improving  every  day." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  Aunt  Prudence." 
Joan  slipped  out  of  her  chair  and  planted  a  fervent 
kiss  on  Prudence's  thin  lips. 

Prudence's  lips  did  not  respond  to  Joan's,  but 
the  woman  was  conscious  of  a  strange  feeling  of 


240       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

enjoyment,  as  Joan  and  Rodney  dashed  out  of  the 
room  like  the  two  childhen  they  were.  Rodney 
White  would  never  grow  old — in  him  beat  the  heart 
of  eternal  youth. 

"  She's  an  affectionate  little  thing,"  Prudence 
whispered,  as  she  cleared  the  table.  "  Kissed  me 
like  she  meant  it,  too.  Humph,  reckon  she  did 
mean  it — she  is  honest."  She  thought  a  little 
shamedly  of  the  first  kiss  Joan  had  given  her — the 
kiss  she  had  wiped  off  with  her  apron.  This  kiss 
she  did  not  efface,  not  even  the  memory  of  it, 
and  the  memory  lingered  with  her  for  many 
days. 

"  Aunt  Prudence !  Aunt  Prudence !  "  Joan's 
voice  floated  in  to  her,  clear  and  sweet  with  a  ring 
of  joy  throbbing  in  it. 

"  Well  ?  "  Prudence  demanded  tartly,  as  she  an- 
swered the  call,  rubbing  her  hands  on  her  apron. 

"  See !  See !  "  Joan  cried,  dancing  up  and  down. 
"  One  for  me  and  one  for  Mona.  Oh !  Oh !  You 
beauties."  She  flew  to  the  pair  of  glossy  brown 
Shetland  ponies  hitched  to  the  porch  posts  and  threw 
her  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  nearest  one,  and, 
as  was  her  habit  when  overwrought  with  either 
pleasure  or  grief,  burst  into  tears. 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  Prudence  gasped,  as  Joan 
raised  her  tear-stained  face  from  the  pony's  neck, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       241 

and  with  a  cry  of  "  Oh,  Rodney ! "  flung  herself 
upon  her  guardian. 

"  I  expected  this,  so  sat  down  to  it,"  Rodney  said, 
over  the  tumbled  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Humph ! "  Prudence  sniffed,  but  her  mouth 
jerked  with  a  grim  smile. 

Mona  was  as  eagerly  happy  over  the  gift,  in  her 
quiet  way,  as  Joan  was  in  her  vivid  gratitude. 
Mona  was  a  bright  picture  on  her  sturdy  little  pony, 
but  to  Rodney  White  nothing  was  ever  so  good  to 
look  upon  as  was  Joan,  vivid  and  alert,  eyes  shining, 
face  aglow,  as  she  mounted  her  pony. 

"  Can  you  imagine  he  is  as  good  to  ride  as  King 
Solomon  ?  "  Rodney  asked,  as  he  and  the  two  little 
girls  started  for  a  long-planned  ride  to  the  deserted 
village  of  Tellput. 

For  an  instant  Joan's  eyes  flashed  in  memory 
of  that  wild  dash  on  King  Solomon;  then  she  faced 
Rodney,  the  light  of  truth  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  love  my  birthday  gift  best,  Rodney  dear.  I 
would  rather  ride  him  than  King  Solomon  because 
I  could  never  ride  King  Solomon  again  with  just 
the  same  feeling  I  had  when  I  rode  him  this  morn- 
ing." 

Rodney  laughed  and  turned  to  Mona.  He  caught 
the  light  in  her  eyes  that  had  been  there  the  night 
she  crossed  the  boundary  line  from  childhood  to 


242       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

womanhood.  The  look  passed  in  an  instant,  and 
Mona  smiled  past  him  at  Joan,  her  eyes  grave,  in- 
scrutable, her  voice  low  and  musical  as  she  said, 
"  I  thank  you,  not  only  for  the  joy  the  gift  brings 
me  but  for  the  happiness  it  also  brings  her.  When 
she,  my  friend,  is  happy,  I,  Mona,  am  full  of  joy." 

After  Mona's  low-toned  words  the  ride  was  con- 
tinued in  silence.  A  silence  full  of  love  and  under- 
standing and  the  undertone  of  pain  in  the  heart 
of  one  only  made  sweeter  the  score  of  perfect 
harmony. 

From  Rainbow  Springs,  a  living  green  garden 
amidst  the  wide  stretch  of  dull-colored  sand  dotted 
here  and  there  with  cacti  and  sage  redolent  with 
an  odor  found  nowhere  but  on  the  desert,  the  way 
lay  straight  across  the  glistening  sand  in  a  waving, 
serpentine,  half -hidden  trail  until  it  reached  the 
climbing  path  that  led  up  the  sage-grown  side  of 
Lone  Pine  Ridge.  On  the  other  side  of  Lone  Pine 
Ridge  lay  the  silent,  deserted  Indian  village  of 
Tellput. 

When  the  morning  lifted  the  purple  veils  from 
the  mountains,  their  peaks  were  revealed  in  snow- 
crowned  splendor,  kissed  by  the  ardent  sun  into  daz- 
zling brightness. 

Under  their  white  crests  the  mountains  dimpled 
with  a  bewitching,  alluring  beauty. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       243 

A  stray  breeze  swept  across  the  stretch  of  sand 
and  blew  Joan's  rebellious  hair  back  from  her  fore- 
head. 

"  Oh,  it's  good,  good,  just  to  live  on  a  morning- 
like  this !  "  she  cried,  holding  out  her  hands  to  the 
whispering  breeze. 

Don  barked  joyfully  at  the  sound  of  her  beloved 
voice.  Don  was  having  an  active  time  that  morn- 
ing, dashing  over  the  sand  in  quest  of  imaginary 
prey,  for  there  was  no  sign  of  animal  life  abroad 
on  the  desert  that  morning. 

As  they  turned  up  the  winding  path  that  wound 
round  and  around  in  its  upward  climb  to  the  top  of 
Lone  Pine  Ridge,  they  rode  again  in  silence,  en- 
tranced by  the  panorama  of  beauty  that  lay  before 
them  as  they  climbed  higher  and  higher  up  the  side 
of  the  ridge. 

On  the  very  top  of  Lone  Pine  Ridge,  they  looked 
down,  on  either  side  of  it,  upon  the  desert,  majestic, 
mysterious.  Beside  the  trail,  perched  on  a  pro- 
jecting ledge  of  the  ridge,  under  the  lone  pine  that 
gives  the  ridge  its  name,  stood  a  dilapidated  three- 
room  cottage  with  a  shambling  shed  clinging  to  the 
rear  room. 

As  they  rested  there  under  the  shade  of  the  great 
pine,  Mona  told  of  the  last  occupant  of  that  crum- 
bling shack :  A  consumptive  had  lived  there  alone — 


244       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

had  been  found  there  many  months  after  his  spirit 
had  gone  to  the  great  unknown. 

When  Mona  had  finished  the  pitiful  story,  Joan's 
eyes  were  misty  with  tears,  she  was  all  aquiver  with 
sympathy  for  the  lonely  youth,  who  had  lived  there 
for  a  time  in  sublime  confidence  that  health  would 
come  to  such  an  earnest  wooer  of  it  as  was  he.  She 
could  almost  feel  the  calm  resignation  with  which 
he  faced  death  there,  where  he  could,  to  the  last, 
overlook  the  vast  solitude  of  the  desert  on  either 
side  of  him. 

Joan  had  cause  to  remember  that  cottage  all  the 
rest  of  her  life,  for  the  next  time  she  saw  it  she 
was  filled  with  anger  and  fear. 

As  they  began  the  descent  to  the  deserted  village 
that  lay  a  crumbling  heap  on  the  desert's  quiet 
bosom,  Don,  some  distance  ahead  of  them,  set  up 
a  furious  barking. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  sky  now,  the  atmosphere 
surcharged  with  a  heat,  the  fierceness  of  which 
was  never  felt  at  Rainbow  Springs.  Rodney 
felt  the  heat,  but  Joan  was  as  fresh  and  cool 
as  when  they  started  out  in  the  early  morning, 
while  Mona  was  calm  and  as  inscrutably  grave 
as  ever. 

With  a  little  cry  of  excitement,  because  of  Don's 
continued  barking,  Joan  urged  her  placid  pony 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       245 

ahead  of  Rodney  and  Mona  in  her  eagerness  to  find 
the  cause  of  Don's  excitement. 

"  I  fear  she  be  sad  by  what  she  find,"  Mona  said, 
gravely.  "  Something  tells  me  so  here."  She 
placed  her  hand  on  her  heart. 

The  sun-glints  on  her  wonderful  copper-tinted 
hair  made  it  ripple  and  glisten  with  a  vivid  glow. 

"  What  an  exquisite  picture  she  makes  here  with 
the  desert  her  fitting  background,"  Rodney  mused, 
as  he  lightly  returned,  "  It  is  only  one  of  Don's 
usual  wild  fancies."  Around  Rodney's  mouth  were 
the  imprints  of  many  smiles,  but  his  face  grew  as 
grave  as  Mona's  when  they  reached  a  pitiful,  quiv- 
ering-lipped, little  Joan,  looking  down  on  the  half- 
eaten  body  of  a  dog — a  dog  Rodney,  as  well  as  she, 
instantly  remembered.  It  was  one  of  the  two  that 
followed  the  old  minister  across  the  desert  the  first 
morning  they  were  at  Rainbow  Springs. 

Some  half -starved  coyote  had  feasted  upon  the 
poor  animal  no  longer  ago  than  that  morning. 

Rodney  dismounted  and  began  to  examine  a 
strange  adornment,  if  adornment  it  had  been,  that 
hung  by  a  wire  to  the  dog's  collar. 

"  Am  in  old  Indian  well,  Tellput,  leg  broken. 
God  is  here.  Dad  Sherwood,"  was  the  message 
faintly  scratched  on  a  small  tin  can  lid,  a  lid  such 
as  comes  on  three-pound  lard  tins. 


246   .    JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney  turned  to  Joan  and  Mona,  and  read  aloud 
the  message  scratched  on  the  can  lid.  "  We'll  find 
him  alive,  I  pray,"  he  added,  as  he  mounted  the 
tough  buckskin  Indian  pony  he  had  hired  from 
Pedro  for  the  day. 

Joan's  lips  still  quivered,  but  there  was  a  rapt 
light  in  her  eyes  and  Rodney  knew  she  was  silently 
praying. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  further  on  they  came  to  a 
heap  of  whitened  human  skeletons,  flanked  by  other 
whitened  bones — the  grim  outlines  of  horses  and 
burros.  Beside  them  lay  also  the  bodies  of  two 
burros  and  a  young  collie  dog,  silent  yet  of  such 
recent  demise  that  they  seemed  to  be  sleeping.  In 
the  center  of  the  grim  setting  lay  the  cause  of  the 
tragic  story  which  had  its  beginning  in  the  whitest 
heap  of  bones  beside  it — a  pool  of  poisoned  water, 
sparkling  in  deceptive  allurement. 

"  Dad  Sherwood  would  not  drink  it,"  Mona  said, 
in  answer  to  the  unspoken  fear  in  Rodney's  eyes. 
"  He  knows  the  desert  well.  He  would  read  and 
understand."  She  pointed  to  the  whitened  bones. 

Rodney  was  glad  to  believe  her,  glad  also  to  leave 
the  deceiving  pool  of  water.  They  cantered  on  to 
the  deserted  village  in  silence,  hoping  yet  fearing 
to  find  the  old  man  they  sought.  Rodney  could  al- 
most see  the  silver-haired,  silver-voiced  old  man  as 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       247 

he  saw  him  that  morning  as  he  started  across  the 
desert  with  his  burros  and  dogs.  How  the  old 
man  loved  the  desert — the  land  of  harmony! 

Rodney  loved  the  desert,  too,  even  though  he 
knew  that  it  held  many  tragic  secrets  in  its  mys- 
terious embrace — tragedies  like  those  of  the  poi- 
soned spring  they  had  just  passed.  But  were  those 
tragedies  the  fault  of  the  desert?  Surely  the  fault 
was  not  the  fault  of  the  land,  the  music  of  which 
touched  a  responsive  chord  in  his  innermost  soul — 
the  land  God  had  endowed  with  life-giving  power 
and  soul-refreshing  strength — the  land  that  was  to 
Rodney  White — a  divine  symphony.  Its  vast  si- 
lence, jagged  mountains,  and  blue  skies  the  theme. 
Its  adagios,  variations  of  the  defiant  and  the  de- 
fensive. Its  allegros,  the  elusive  stretches  of  sand, 
the  unexplored  canyons.  The  matchless  whole 
softened  and  shaded  to  an  exquisite  paean,  bright- 
ened and  illuminated  by  vivid  dawns  and  purple- 
hued  twilights  with  mystic  interludes  of  moon- 
silvered  nights. 

The  deserted  village  of  Tellput  is  in  the  last 
crumbling  stages  of  utter  dissolution.  The  broken 
adobe  walls  and  infirm  thatch  huts,  squatting  on 
the  narrow  trail-like  streets,  are  the  last  lingering 
notes  of  the  little  village  that  once  rang  with  the 
musical  voices  of  a  vanishing  race. 


248       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

In  the  heart  of  the  deserted  village,  Rodney  and 
the  girls  came  upon  a  typical  Indian  well  of  bygone 
days. 

A  well  at  the  bottom  of  a  great  terraced  pit,  with 
narrow  crumbling  steps  leading  down  to  the  little 
space  of  ground  around  the  pool  of  sparkling  water. 
There  in  the  ancient  days  many  a  dusky  belle  had 
gone  to  fill  her  olla,  conscious  of  the  admiring  gaze 
of  some  stalwart  copper-hued  brave. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  pit,  Rodney  found  Dad 
Sherwood,  gaunt  and  almost  starved,  but  not  suf- 
fering from  that  desert  thirst  that  drives  men  mad 
and  causes  some  to  call  the  desert  "  The  land  God 
forgot."  By  such  the  harmony  of  the  desert  can 
never  be  heard,  but  to  Rodney  and  Dad  Sherwood 
and  the  two  girls  riding  the  same  pony  on  the  home- 
ward trip  that  day  (the  old  minister  rode  the  other 
one)  the  desert  sang  a  superb  anthem  of  joy. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THAT  evening  at  seven  o'clock  the  birthday 
festivities,  for  Mona  and  Joan,  began. 
Joan  was  immediately  exalted  to  dizzy 
realms  of  delight. 

Even  the  most  desperately  ill  of  the  consumptives, 
at  the  Springs,  had  managed  to  come  to  the  party, 
and  the  little  cottage  rang  with  laughter  and  jests, 
some  of  the  jests  grim,  but  through  all  the  merri- 
ment, with  the  shadow  of  death  hanging  over  many, 
.there  predominated  the  strain  of  humor  mercifully 
given  to  most  tubercular  sufferers. 

The  garb  of  the  sick  men  ran  largely  to  the  pic- 
turesque, for  many  of  the  men  were  college  grad- 
uates. To  most,  the  knowledge  of  their  grim  dis- 
ease had  come  as  a  complete  surprise — something 
wholly  unexpected — a  something  that  revolution- 
ized their  entire  life. 

When  the  hermit  doctor  came  into  the  living-room 
after  attending  to  the  old  minister's  broken  leg,  the 
sick  men  greeted  him  with  shouts  of  delight.  Since 
the  night  of  Arth's  critical  attack,  the  hermit  doc- 
tor had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  at  the 

249 


250       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Springs  and  had  rendered  most  of  the  sick  men 
some  professional  service. 

"How  is  Brown?"  the  hermit  doctor  asked  a 
laughing-eyed  youth  in  the  last  stages  of  the  grim 
disease.  Brown,  the  man  in  question,  had  been  at 
one  time  a  successful  dentist  in  Los  Angeles.  Brown 
had  been  at  Rainbow  Springs  most  of  the  winter,  a 
victim  also  of  the  great  white  plague;  the  previous 
week  he  had  gone  to  Los  Angeles  on  business. 

The  reply  of  the  sick  lad  was  characteristic  of 
the  manner  in  which  most  of  the  men  took  the  prom- 
ise of  the  future.  "  Oh,  Brown  is  all  right,"  laughed 
the  sick  man,  "  I  heard  about  him  to-day — he  is 
filling  his  last  cavity." 

The  hermit  doctor  could  not  repress  a  smile — 
the  young  fellow  was  so  heroically  cheerful,  with 
the  same  cavity  yawning  at  his  very  feet. 

Lois  Reeves  and  Martha  Welch  arrived  just  then. 
The  doctor  greeted  Lois  with  an  unmistakable  light 
in  his  eyes;  then  he  went  out  on  the  porch.  As  he 
stood  there,  looking  across  the  desert,  its  ever  pre- 
vailing, haunting  sense  of  the  unknown  clasping 
hands  with  the  dusk  gathering  on  its  sweeping  si- 
lence until  the  distant  line  of  horizon  was  merged 
into  the  low-hanging  sky  and  the  mountains  were 
half-hidden  by  misty  veils  of  purple  and  the  canyons 
were  packed  full  of  black  shadows,  the  doctor  real- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       251 

ized  as  never  before  how  the  majestic,  mysterious 
desert  had  taken  him  to  its  heart,  giving  him 
strength  first,  then  peace  and  understanding  that 
night  at  Arth's. 

Since  that  memorable  night,  the  hermit  doctor 
had  taken  a  keen  interest  in  the  future  that  might 
yet  be  his.  Joan  had  aroused  the  soul  in  him — Lois 
Reeves  had  awakened  his  heart — the  heart  he  had 
thought  buried  forever  in  some  unknown  yet  be- 
loved and  hallowed  spot. 

He  sighed  as  memory  marched  before  him  its 
phantoms  of  joy  and  pain. 

Suddenly  came  the  thought  of  the  youth  in  there 
making  his  grim  jest  about  the  last  cavity,  and  as 
suddenly  came  the  determination  to  go  East  to  study 
the  new  Rattlesnake  Cure  of  which  he  had  read 
only  that  morning.  He  had  the  means,  he  loved 
the  desert,  and,  surely  such  heroic  spirits,  as  those 
making  merry  in  there,  should  have  a  great  chance 
to  win  the  health  they  wooed  so  heroically. 

He  knew  that  many  of  them  had  little  or  no 
means;  that  many  of  them  depended  upon  the  dry 
air  alone  to  win  life's  battle  for  them.  The  ones 
who  came  after  that  brave  chap  in  there  would  be 
in  the  same  financial  condition.  He  regretted  then, 
as  he  had  regretted  it  scores  of  times  during  his 
few  awakened  days,  that  he  had  not  applied  his  at- 


252       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

tention  to  this  disease,  when  he  studied  abroad,  in- 
stead of  to  surgery. 

He  smiled  as  he  thought  of  Joan.  What  a  paean 
of  joy  she  had  been  to  all  in  the  village;  how  every 
one  loved  her — "  all  spirit  and  fire  and  dew  "  that 
she  was. 

He  thought  whimsically  that  Prudence  White 
would  approve  more  of  the  child's  conduct  if  she 
were  demure  and  prim,  but  every  one  else  loved 
her  best  as  she  was,  with  her  impulsive  soul.  He 
smiled  again,  as  he  thought  how  easily  the  child 
responded  to  joy.  He  knew,  as  did  Rodney, 
that  Joan  would  never  and  could  never  enjoy 
or  suffer  tranquilly.  She  would  ever  take  the 
pleasure  or  pain  life  brought  her  with  trebled 
intensity. 

Joan's  clear,  happy  laugh  floated  out  to  him  with 
a  haunting  familiarity.  He  had  a  strange  sensa- 
tion of  having  heard  that  laugh  and  loved  it  in  some 
other  existence.  The  child's  eyes  were  always 
haunting  him  with  their  resemblance  to  other  eyes 
that  had  smiled  into  his. 

He  had  smoked  as  he  stood  there;  now  he  threw 
the  cigar  away  and  went  back  into  the  house.  High 
carnival  met  him — Dad  Sherwood  had  been  car- 
ried in  on  his  cot.  Rodney  had  brought  the  old 
man  home  with  him  from  Tellput,  and  intended  to 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       253 

keep  him,  as  his  guest,  until  the  old  minister  was 
entirely  himself  again. 

Joan  was  fluttering  about  the  old  man's  cot.  As 
she  bent  over  the  old  minister  to  straighten  an  al- 
ready immaculate  pillow,  the  doctor  was  suddenly 
conscious  of  whom  she  reminded  him.  Over  his 
face  crept  an  ashy  pallor  and  he  seemed  suddenly  to 
have  crossed  the  boundary  line  between  the  fullness 
of  life  and  extreme  old  age. 

The  Major  was  the  only  white  person  in  the  vil- 
lage who  was  not  present  at  the  party  that  night. 
The  Major  sulked  beside  his  own  fire;  he  had  made 
his  first  complete  proposal  to  Prudence  that  day. 
He  had  met  with  an  unexpected  rejection — a  rejec- 
tion so  firm  that  neither  cajolery,  flattery,  nor  pro- 
testations of  an  undying  love  moved  it.  Prudence 
was  inflexible;  although  her  heart  throbbed 
strangely — the  Major's  proposal  was  the  first  that 
had  ever  been  made  to  her  and  it  had  shaken  her 
to  the  very  depths — shaken  her  so  that  she  was  un- 
usually kind  to  Welch  that  night,  for  Prudence  had 
an  unaccountable  longing  to  hear  from  Welch  the 
words  she  had  scorned  from  the  Major. 

Mona  was  very  beautiful  and  very  happy  that 
night.  Her  great  eyes  glowed  with  a  soft  radiance 
that  made  Rodney  rejoice  every  time  he  looked  at 
her.  But  the  will-o'-the-wisp  Joan  was,  to  him,  the 


254       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

most  glorious  thing  on  earth,  as  she  flitted  about 
among  the  guests  with  a  bright,  encouraging  word 
for  every  one.  His  heart  throbbed  with  joy,  as  he 
looked  into  the  faces  of  the  sick  men  after  the  child 
had  spoken  to  them — one  and  all  they  reflected  the 
light  of  joy  so  vivid  in  the  child's  expressive  coun- 
tenance. 

At  Rodney's  request  every  one  had  remembered 
Joan  and  Mona  with  gifts  identical — this,  that 
Joan's  sensitive  heart  should  not  be  wounded  as  it 
would  have  been,  had  she  received  more  than  did 
Mona. 

Rodney  alone  made  a  difference  of  gifts  between 
the  two — this  was  a  secret  between  him  and  Joan 
— but  for  the  first  time,  Joan,  that  night,  wore  her 
locket  on  the  outside  of  her  dress,  and  this  night  a 
slender  gold  chain  had  taken  the  place  of  the  well- 
worn  ribbon  to  which  it  had  been  fastened  when 
Rodney  first  saw  the  miniatured  face,  in  its  setting 
of  pearls. 

The  hermit  doctor  watched  the  old  minister 
closely  as  the  merriment  grew  in  volume  about  them. 

The  old  minister  finally  caught  the  look  in  the 
younger  man's  eyes  and  beckoned  to  him. 

When  the  doctor  was  seated  beside  him,  the  old 
man  said  softly,  "  You  notice,  I  see,  that  I  am  my- 
self again." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       255 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  The  fall  seemed  to  clear  all  the  blur  away,  and 
during  the  hours  I  spent  down  there  in  the  old  well 
I  came  to  my  right  mind.  The  trouble  will  never 
come  back,  will  it?  "  There  was  a  note  of  anxiety 
now,  in  the  low  musical  voice. 

The  doctor  studied  the  fine  old  face  intently. 
The  light  of  reason,  in  the  old  eyes,  was  as  clear  as 
that  in  his  own.  He  held  out  his  hand  and 
gripped  the  old  one  that  met  it  so  eagerly.  His 
voice,  when  he  spoke,  was  husky. 

"  You  need  never  fear  the  return  of  the  cloud. 
Often  a  fall,  such  as  you  had,  restores  one  to  per- 
fect sanity  and,  I  am  happy  to  say  that  you  are  per- 
fectly normal  now,  Mr.  Sherwood." 

The  old  man  pressed  his  hand  gratefully.  "  It 
is  good,  good,"  he  said,  softly.  "  Those  were  long 
hours  I  spent  in  the  old  well.  I  was  unconscious 
for  a  long  time,  but  when  reason  came  again  it 
brought  with  it  a  clarity  of  reason  that  had  not 
been  mine  since  my  great  loss."  He  sighed;  then 
his  eyes  brightened,  as  Joan  came  flying  to  him, 
holding  triumphantly  aloft  a  handsome  silver  dog 
collar. 

"  For  Don,"  she  cried.  "  Mr.  Welch  brought 
it  to  Don."  As  the  silver  and  gold-brown  heads 
bent  together  over  the  dog  collar,  the  locket  Joan 


256       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

wore  swung  out  on  the  slender  gold  chain  and  flew 
open,  revealing  the  miniature  face  in  all  its  wistful 
beauty. 

The  doctor  saw  and  was  held  speechless  by  the 
pictured  face  so  like  Joan's — the  face  of  the  other 
Joanna.  Over  his  face  crept  a  slow,  ashen-gray 
wave,  and  his  hand  shook  as  he  lifted  it  slowly  and 
closed  it  a  minute  upon  his  eyes  as  one  does  to 
clear  a  blurred  vision. 

So  the  shuttles  of  life  fly  swiftly  to  and  fro 
through  the  years — swiftly,  silently  weaving  pat- 
terns which  one  may  not  trace.  Patterns  woven  in 
the  strange  loom  of  Life  while  fate  shifts  the 
frames  and  now  and  then  ties  a  broken  thread, 
linking  the  past  with  the  present  after  a  lapse  of 
many  years. 

The  voice  of  the  old  minister,  at  last,  reached 
through  the  questioning  reverie  into  which  the  her- 
mit doctor  had  drifted.  He  heard  the  silver  voice 
as  one  hears  dream  voices,  but  he  never  forgot  the 
words. 

"You  open  before  me  memory's  casket  of  jew- 
els, little  girl,"  the  old  minister  was  saying.  "  Once 
I  would  have  looked  upon  them  with  naught  but 
pain  in  my  heart,  now  there  is  sweetness  where  once 
pain  reigned  supreme." 

Joan  curled  up  on  the  cot  beside  the  old  man  and 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       257 

buried  her  chin  in  her  hands — her  eyes  were  mystic 
wells  of  interest  now. 

The  hermit  doctor  watched  the  child;  his  hand 
still  shading  his  eyes. 

"  Memory's  casket  is  of  gold  and  wonderfully 
carved  by  the  goldsmith  of  life,"  continued  the 
mellow  voice.  "  It  is  full  of  jewels,  little  girl. 
All  the  jewels  that  are  in  the  foundation  of 
the  New  Jerusalem  are  there.  Jaspers  made  of 
the  mistakes  of  our  lives,  opaque  and  highly 
polished. 

"  Sapphires  of  the  golden  days  and  care-free 
nights.  Chalcedonies  lustrous  with  mingled  pleas- 
ure and  pain.  Emeralds  made  of  the  joys  of  youth. 
Sardonyx  of  evil  thoughts  and  white  forgiveness. 
Sardius  speaking  of  the  heart's  deepest  love. 
Chrysolite  speaking  of  '  Green  pastures  and  still 
waters.'  Some  day  we  will  look  at  them  all,  little 
girl,  even  the  Pearls  that  are  the  unshed  tears  of 
our  heart's  deepest  sorrows,  but  now,  if  I  mistake 
not,  we  are  going  to  hear  something  that  will  be  as 
a  cup  of  cold  water  to  our  thirsty  souls." 

Joan's  eyes  followed  his  and  her  heart  throbbed 
with  joy.  Rodney  stood  across  the  room  with  his 
violin  tucked  under  his  chin.  She  clutched  at  her 
throat;  she  knew  Rodney  was  going  to  play  for 
her;  her  heart  seemed  to  almost  stop  beating  at  the 


258       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

thought  of  again  hearing  the  voice  of  the  violin. 

In  almost  a  whisper  came  the  voice  of  the  violin, 
soft  and  full  and  sweet  as  an  angel's  call. 

By  invisible  degrees  the  melody  grew  in  volume, 
full  of  life  and  majesty,  yet  with  a  throbbing,  thrill- 
ing, whispering  undertone  of  peace  and  perfect  un- 
derstanding. 

The  majesty  of  the  song  of  the  desert,  as  it  had 
spoken  to  Rodney,  was  there,  and  he  wove  a  mas- 
terful improvisation  of  it  in  that  wonderful  theme. 
The  defiant  and  defensive,  the  minor  plaintive  notes 
lightened  and  brightened  by  days  of  clear  skies, 
moon-silvered  nights,  rippling  whispers  of  some 
grateful  breeze  with  variations  of  the  trills  of  the 
mocking  bird  that  lived  in  the  great  pepper  tree 
that  overshadowed  the  house. 

Then  came  a  brighter  theme;  its  variations 
frolicsome  and  mirthful  as  a  bubbling  brook, 
chuckling  with  joy  as  it  flows  on  and  on  until 
caught  up  by  other  babbling  brooks  and  merged  at 
last  in  a  rushing  river  of  swirling  eddies  and  tur- 
bulent currents — the  river  of  life  itself — life  as 
Rodney  had  known  it — a  river  that  flowed  on  and 
on  throbbing  with  resounding  chords  and  epic  songs 
of  prayer  and  pain  and  joy  and  peace  until  with 
a  final  chord,  majestic  in  its  absolute  surrender  to 
the  will  of  the  Infinite — the  power  that  leads  the 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       259 

brook  on  to  the  river,  the  river  on  to  the  sea  of 
fulfillment — the  violin  ceased  speaking. 

Joan  only  half  stifled  a  sob  that  was  a  strange 
mingling  of  joy  and  pain.  Rodney  smiled  at  her 
as  his  fingers  began  to  shape  the  melody  of  the 
"  Ave  Maria." 

Joan  recognized  the  melody  and  smiled  with  joy, 
while  the  melody  itself  was  being  interpreted  by  a 
master,  who  expressed  in  it  himself.  Rodney  saw 
again  that  little  pathetic  figure  crouched  in  front 
of  his  fire  and  the  violin  spoke  softly;  then  laughed 
and  thrilled  with  a  holy  joy  because  the  child  had 
answered  an  earlier  cry  of  pain — of  sorrow,  fol- 
lowed by  sweet  resignation. 

Then  came  a  note  of  hope  in  the  violin's  voice 
and  it  spoke  of  hope  to  those  from  whom  hope  had 
fled. 

Life  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  promise  of  ex- 
tension— seemed  to  have  been  given  for  something 
besides  patient  endurance.  Enjoyment,  peace,  and 
fulfillment  of  something  majestic  and  full  of  recom- 
pense seemed  also  to  be  included  in  the  scheme  of 
things. 

When  the  guests,  of  that  memorable  night,  de- 
parted, on  their  faces  was  a  reflection  of  that  ex- 
altation that  shone  in  Joan's  eyes  and  radiated  her 
every  feature.  Happiness  hung  round  Joan  like  a 


260       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

garment — she  seemed  to  have  been  bathed  in  some 
ethereal  fountain  of  supreme  joy — a  joy  that  was 
contagious.  Every  one  there  felt  some  of  the  un- 
alloyed joy  she  represented. 

The  hermit  doctor  lingered  after  all  the  rest  of 
the  guests  had  gone.  After  Joan  had  gone  reluc- 
tantly to  bed,  too  thrilled  to  sleep,  the  doctor  asked 
Rodney  if  the  miniature  face  in  Joan's  locket  was 
the  face  of  some  relative  of  the  child. 

"  Her  mother,"  Rodney  answered,  tersely. 
"  Her  father  was  a  cur,  he  deserted  her  and  her 
child-mother  when  my  Joan  was  a  little  baby." 
Rodney's  voice  was  raspy  with  hate  now;  he  de- 
tested the  man  who  had  deserted  the  child  and  the 
wistful-eyed  mother. 

As  he  spoke  the  doctor's  face  blanched  with  the 
gray  pallor  that  is  not  the  pallor  of  death  but  some- 
thing more  ghastly. 

"  Perhaps  there  were  extenuating  circumstances," 
he  advanced,  when  Rodney  ceased  his  tirade  against 
Joan's  father. 

"  There  could  be  none  for  such  a  wrong,"  Rod- 
ney returned  heatedly,  and  the  doctor's  heart  felt 
like  lead  until  the  old  minister  lightened  the  leaden 
weight  by  a  low-voiced,  "  We  cannot  know,  my 
boy,  the  circumstances — we  should  not  judge.  We 
must  always  remember  the  One  who  forgives  all 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       261 

things  and  commands  us  to  forgive  even  as  we  hope 
to  be  forgiven.  It's  a  grand  life  we  live,  boys,  if 
we  live  it  as  we  should.  Every  one  has  his  own 
fight  to  make — every  one  knows  his  own  limitations 
— knows  his  own  soul.  When  the  Lord  is  with  us 
— when  the  soul  is  right  a  man  can  conquer  any- 
thing, can  be  forgiven  anything." 

"  When  the  soul  is  right  a  man  can  conquer  any- 
thing," the  doctor  repeated,  softly,  as  he  went  down 
the  sandy  road  toward  Arth's  cottage.  There  was 
a  light  shining  in  Arth's  window  and  the  shade  was 
not  drawn.  The  doctor  walked  close  to  the  window 
and  looked  in,  not  after  the  manner  of  one  who 
spies  on  others.  The  doctor  looked  to  assure  him- 
self of  Arth's  physical  condition,  after  the  hours 
he  had  spent  in  unusual  excitement. 

Arth  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed ;  his  face, 
revealed  by  the  dim  light  of  the  smoky  lamp,  was 
pain  drawn,  his  lips  were  quivering,  his  eyes  misty, 
as  he  looked  upon  the  little  photograph  he  held  in 
his  hand. 

The  doctor  turned  away,  a  low  moan  of  sym- 
pathy wrung  from  him.  "  Every  man  has  his  own 
fight  to  make."  He  quoted  the  old  minister  again. 

"  God  knows  I  have  my  fight  to  make,"  he  said, 
hoarsely.  In  the  translucent  moonlight,  he  looked 


262       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

white  and  spent.  He  walked  down  the  road  past 
Lois'  cottage,  as  walk  the  very  old  or  those  who 
have  just  left  a  freshly  filled  grave. 

Before  his  eyes  was  the  face  of  Lois  as  he  had 
seen  it  ever  since  it  had  first  been  indelibly  stamped 
upon  his  mind  in  all  its  winsome  and  alluring  wom- 
anly tenderness. 

Until  he  saw  the  miniature  that  night,  he  had 
hoped  and  prayed  that  he  might  win  Lois,  but  could 
he  ever  make  her  understand — could  he  make  her 
believe  in  the  extenuating  circumstances?  There 
was  only  his  word  against  the  contradictory  evi- 
dence of  the  years.  "  Would  she  understand  ? " 
He  appealed  to  the  serene  moon  and  stars,  mocking 
him  with  their  serenity. 

And  yet  Lois  Reeves  was,  to  him,  the  very  acme 
of  intelligence.  Divinely  womanly  was  she,  there- 
fore divinely  forgiving,  "  but  would  she  under- 
stand?" he  questioned  over  and  over.  How  un- 
speakably desirable  was  she,  this  woman  he  might 
hope  to  win,  but  for  the  specter  of  the  past,  his  past 
— the  gaunt,  grim  specter  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence. 

Would  she  ever  believe  he  was  not  to  blame? 

Suddenly  came  the  thought  that  he  need  not  tell 
her  of  the  grim  specter.  No  one  need  ever  know 
of  the  past.  No  one  had  seen  him  when  he  looked 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       263 

upon  that  miniatured,  wistful  face — the  face  that 
confirmed  his  wild  thoughts — the  wild  fancies  that 
were  proven  correct.  How  his  brain  had  whirled 
with  them  ever  since  he  first  looked  into  the  child's 
hauntingly  familiar  eyes. 

Compounded  in  the  winsome  personality  of  the 
child  was  all  that  was  good  and  noble  of  that  other 
Joanna  of  those  blissful  days  of  his  youth.  The 
child  was  like  some  young  goddess  now — the  rep- 
lica of  the  child-mother  who  had  borne  her,  yet  in 
her  was  his  own  fiery  temper.  He  could  again  hear 
the  voice  of  Rodney  White,  as  he  said :  "  Joan  is 
like  some  rare  strain  of  music  with  an  occasional 
discord  of  temper." 

The  doctor's  face  flushed  as  he  recalled  the  ring 
in  Rodney's  voice  as  he  told  of  Joan's  pride  in  the 
marriage  certificate — how  the  sensitive,  high-strung 
child  must  have  been  made  to  suffer  by  some  un- 
scrupulous harpy.  Some  one  had  no  doubt  called 
the  adored  mother  an  unkind  name  or  the  marriage 
certificate  that  proved  that  mother's  purity  would 
not  be  so  cherished  by  a  child. 

The  man's  innermost  consciousness  seemed  to 
shrink  as  from  a  sudden  blow.  His  cringing  cow- 
ardice was  the  cause  of  the  child's  humiliation. 
How  Rodney  White  hated  the  man  who  had  caused 
it — and  how  cordial  Rodney  White  was  to  him. 


264       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

He  laughed.  "  O  God,  what  a  farce  life  is,  after 
all !  "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  shake  off 
a  burden  that  was  grievous  to  bear.  He  knew  that 
the  time  might  come  when  he  could  no  longer  keep 
silent — not  even  to  win  Lois. 

A  great,  surging  flood  of  paternal  love  swept  over 
him.  He  turned  and  looked  back  toward  the  little 
unpainted  shack  where  Lois  lived  and  the  paternal 
love  receded,  was  swept  away  by  an  overwhelming 
tide  of  love  for  the  winsome,  womanly  girl,  mak- 
ing such  a  brave  fight  for  her  health  while  she 
taught  the  Indian  school  and — and  oh,  the  irony 
of  it — her  only  white  pupil  was  the  child, 
Joan. 

He  tried  to  moisten  his  dry  lips  with  his  parched 
tongue.  Lois  had  been  very  sweet  and  gracious  to 
him  that  night. 

His  eyes  brightened  at  the  thought  of  her.  How 
proud  he  would  be  of  her  as  his  wife!  He  struck 
his  open  palm  with  clenched  knuckles.  "  I'll  win 
her,"  he  cried,  triumphantly.  He  smiled  again  very 
tenderly,  his  eyes  on  the  little  unpainted  shack  with 
silver  moonlit  bars  of  light  laid  lightly  over  it,  soft- 
ening its  crude  outlines. 

Yes,  he  would  marry  Lois  Reeves  and  cease  to  be 
sad  and  conscience-stricken  over  his  discovery.  The 
child  was  well  cared  for.  He  must  forget  his  dis- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       265 

covery,  and  yet  how  hauntingly  sweet  was  she — the 
replica  of  his  first  love. 

"  O  God !  "  he  cried.  "  Drawn  to  her  as  I  am 
by  every  fiber  of  my  being,  still  I  dare  not  own  her 
now.  I  must — I  must  win  Lois.  Lois!  Lois! 
You  are  far  more  dear  to  me  than  was  my  first  love. 
I  love  now  as  a  man — then  I  was  a  boy.  Lois! 
Lois !  I  must  win  you.  I  simply  haven't  the  cour- 
age to  acknowledge  that  first  love  and — and  the 
child — I  cannot  lose  you,  Lois.  And  why  should  I 
ever  mention  the  past  ? "  he  demanded,  fiercely, 
wringing  his  locked  hands.  "  I  will  go  East,  as  I 
planned  to-night  before  my  fears  were  confirmed, 
and  when  I  come  back  I  will  do  a  work  here  of 
which  you  will  be  proud,  Lois  dear.  And  some  day 
— some  day,  Lois  dear,  you  will  be  mine.  I  love 
you,  Lois,  as  woman  never  was  loved  before.  I 
long  for  you  in  spirit  and  body  as  woman  was 
never  desired  before. 

"  I  love  you  ten  thousand  times  more  than  I 
loved  the  love  of  my  youth,  and  yet  God  knows 
how  I  loved  her — love  her  still  as  one  loves  the 
memory  of  something  very  precious  and  lovely 
that  has  been  laid  away  for  years  in  a  golden  casket 
such  as  the  old  minister  told  of  to-night." 

Raising  his  eyes  to  the  serene,  star- jeweled  sky, 
he  tried  to  frame  a  prayer,  but  he  could  not  pray. 


266       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  There  shall  be  nothing  hidden  that  shall  not  be 
revealed,"  came  to  him  with  the  force  of  a  catapult, 
hurling  him  back  to  the  beginning  again — back 
where  he  was  when  he  came  out  into  the  starry 
night. 

He  turned  and  walked  back  through  the  village 
to  the  old  Indian  graveyard,  and  sank  down  upon 
a  flat  bowlder. 

He  remained  there  on  the  rock  and  watched  the 
moon  go  down  and  the  soft  veil  of  utter  darkness 
fall  over  the  desert  world — the  veil  of  utter  black- 
ness that  precedes  the  dawn.  The  desert  throbbed 
and  pulsated  in  some  mystic,  majestic  music  and 
still  the  man  sat  there  without  any  sense  of  fatigue 
— without  reaching  any  final  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem that  confronted  him.  At  daybreak  he  went 
back  to  the  village,  without  meeting  any  one.  A 
light  still  burned  low  in  Arth's  cottage.  He  quick- 
ened his  pace,  fearing  that  Arm  might  have  been 
taken  suddenly  worse.  He  peered  in  at  the  same 
window  through  which  he  had  looked  just  after 
he  left  Rodney's.  He  sighed  with  relief,  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  Arth  sleeping  peacefully.  He  turned 
away  from  the  window  and  looked  down  the  road 
toward  Lois'  cottage. 

The  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun  touched  the 
little  unpainted  shack  with  a  kindly  light. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       267 

"  Lois !  Lois !  God  grant  that  you  may  some 
day  be  mine,"  he  cried,  softly,  reverently  baring  his 
head. 

A  few  days  later  the  hermit  doctor  went  East — 
his  problem  still  unsolved;  his  secret  still  his 
own. 

A  beautiful  May  gave  place  to  a  warm  but  radi- 
antly beautiful  June.  Each  passing  day  was  a  paean 
of  joy  fqr  Rodney  and  Joan  and  the  old  minister, 
who  still  remained  at  Rodney's,  although  his  broken 
leg  was  long  since  healed. 

The  porch  was  the  Mecca  of  the  three  these  days. 
The  instant  Joan  returned  from  school,  she  curled 
up  on  the  cot  beside  the  old  minister,  while  he  told 
her  of  the  Southern  city,  on  the  edge  of  which  had 
been  the  ivy-covered  church,  where  he  had  min- 
istered to  his  flock  for  more  than  twoscore  years 
— loving  his  people  and  understanding  them  as  only 
a  poet  soul,  endowed  with  a  spiritual  divinity,  can 
love  and  understand. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  splendid  school  exer- 
cises next  week  when  school  closes,"  Joan  cried, 
one  day,  as  she  flung  herself  on  the  cot  beside  the 
old  man,  breathless  and  flushed  from  the  wild  run 
she,  and  Mona,  and  Don  had  made  up  the  sandy 
road,  gleaming  like  a  golden  ribbon  under  the 
summer  sun. 


268       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"Where  is  Rodney?"  she  demanded,  when  she 
had  caught  her  breath. 

"  With  Arth.  Poor  Arth,  he  is  not  so  well  to- 
day. Yet,  why  should  I  call  him  poor  Arth?  He 
is  a  divinely  fortunate  Arth — he  is  God's  own  child 
ready  to  be  gathered  to  the  '  realm  of  pure  de- 
light/ "  he  murmured  to  himself. 

Joan's  face  clouded  and  a  tender,  wistful  look 
crept  into  her  eyes.  Arth  was  never  so  well  these 
days — and  his  wife  had  not  come.  Joan  was  glad 
now  that  Arth  did  not  know  of  the  letter  she  had 
written  his  wife  so  many  weeks  ago.  Each  morn- 
ing when  she  looked  into  the  sick  man's  feverish 
face,  her  heart  ached  and  throbbed  in  sympathy  and 
understanding  of  the  longing,  wistful  look  in  his 
eyes. 

Her  early,  unchildlike  life  had  taught  her  the 
lesson  of  pain  and  longing  for  the  touch  of  a  hand 
of  love  and  understanding — for  the  presence  of 
one's  very  own  loved  ones. 

She  knew  that  Arth  each  day  longed  more  and 
more  for  his  wife,  because  the  little  picture  was  al- 
ways on  the  pillow  beside  him  the  days  he  was  too 
spent  to  be  up. 

The  old  man  sighed  and  brushed  his  shining  silver 
hair  back  from  his  forehead. 

A  cool  breeze  swept  in  across  the  desert.     The 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       269 

air  felt  good  to  him.  He  sighed  with  distinct  relief. 
This  was  almost  as  good  as  being  in  his  garden 
at  home — the  garden  beside  the  ivy-covered 
church. 

He  looked  at  Joan  with  a  tender  smile.  The 
child's  face  showed  her  misery  over  the  thought  of 
Arth. 

How  tender  she  was — how  quickly  touched  she 
was  by  the  suffering  of  others — how  generous  she 
was  to  his  protegee,  Mona,  and  yet  what  an  un- 
tamable firefly  of  a  child  she  was,  he  mused.  He 
sought  now  to  divert  her — to  bring  the  sparkle  of 
light  back  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  can  just  see,  yonder  in  that  purple  veil  over 
the  mountain,  my  churchyard  wall  and  beyond  it 
the  red  gables  of  my  rectory,"  he  said,  whimsi- 
cally. 

Joan's  eyes  followed  his,  and  he  knew  by  the  up- 
lift of  her  head  that  she  too  saw  the  vision. 

He  laughed  a  low,  musical  laugh  of  pleasure. 
The  wind  came  in  stronger  and  cooler  now,  and 
blew  his  white  hair  about  like  threads  of  silver 
tapestry. 

"  I  can  almost  smell  my  old-fashioned  clove  pinks, 
lassie,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  So  can  I."  Joan's  face  was  radiant.  "  Let  us 
have  a  garden  here,"  she  cried,  eagerly. 


270       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  So  we  shall,  lassie,  so  we  shall,"  agreed  the 
old  minister.  "  We'll  send  back  to  my  old  home 
for  some  cuttings  and  seeds  from  the  old  garden, 
and " 

"And,  Dad!  Dad!"  Joan  interrupted,  her  eyes 
shining.  "  There  is  a  church  here.  Oh,  Dad ! 
Dad !  you'll  preach  in  it,  won't  you  ?  " 

The  old  man's  eyes  followed  hers  to  the  little 
church  silhouetted  against  the  shadows  banking 
up  between  it  and  the  mountains.  His  eyes 
lighted  and  his  face  was  transfigured  with  an 
inner  glory,  as  he  saw  the  little  church  in  a  new 
light. 

"  So  I  can,  so  I  can,  and  shall,  lassie,"  he  said 
at  last.  "  I  wonder  I  did  not  think  of  it — the  little 
church  I  have  longed  for — the  little  church  ready 
and  waiting  for  me,"  he  mused,  as  Joan  flew  down 
the  road  to  meet  Rodney. 

Then  he  sighed,  as  he  remembered  the  cloud  that 
had  darkened  his  intellect  before  his  fall. 

"  '  And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them,'  "  he  said 
to  Rodney,  his  voice  soft  with  emotion,  as  Rodney 
and  Joan  came  up  the  steps  hand  in  hand,  chatting 
joyously. 

"  Come  on  in,  Joan,"  came  the  voice  of  Prudence 
from  the  living-room. 

"  Coming,    Aunt    Prudence,"    Joan    responded, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       271 

meekly.  She  wondered  if  she  had  done  anything 
to  merit  the  displeasure  of  Prudence. 

"  Hope  Aunt  Prue  does  not  scold  her,"  Rodney 
said,  taking  a  chair  near  the  old  man. 

"  She  won't,"  the  old  minister  returned,  cheer- 
fully. "  I  smell  cookies,"  he  added,  boyishly.  "  I 
prophesy  they  are  coming  our  way,  too." 

"  You  are  a  good  prophet,  Dad,"  Rodney 
laughed,  as  Joan  came  dashing  out  to  them,  all 
flushed  and  glowing,  a  plate  heaped  high  with 
fragrant  cookies,  held  out  before  her. 

"  I  am  to  take  Mr.  Arth  some,"  she  cried,  ex- 
citedly, setting  the  plate  of  cookies  on  a  small  table 
in  easy  reach  of  both  men.  "  Aunt  Prudence  is 
too  good  for  anything,"  she  flung  over  her  shoulder, 
as  she  came  out  the  second  time  with  a  heaping 
plate  of  the  delicately  browned  dainties. 

"  I  repeat  '  a  little  child  shall  lead  them,'  "  the 
old  man  said,  fervently. 

"  Something  has  changed  Aunt  Prue,"  Rodney 
said,  softly.  "  I  never  had  cookies  when  I  was  a 
little  chap,  unless  Judge  Wheaton  gave  them  to  me 
when  his  wife  baked — and  I  am  sure  he  slipped 
them  for  me,"  he  added,  with  a  little  reminiscent 
sigh. 

The  old  minister  smiled  at  him  understandingly ; 
then  began  to  tell  Rodney  of  his  talk  with  Joan  that 


272       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

afternoon,  becoming  more  and  more  enthusiastic  as 
he  expressed  his  suddenly  formed  plan  to  open  the 
little  church,  so  long  only  a  silent  building  of  God, 
and  make  of  it  a  house  of  worship  for  all  those  in 
the  little  village. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"  "IT  "JT  T  ELL,  what  now  ?  "  demanded  Prudence, 
V/Y/  one  day,  as  Joan  came  dashing  in  with 
Don. 

"  Take  that  dog  out  of  here,  Joan  Worthington," 
she  commanded  tartly,  her  keen  eyes  cold  now,  as 
Don  gamboled  about  Joan,  leaping  and  barking  for 
the  letter  the  child  held  high  above  her  head. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Prue,  let  Don  alone  a  minute,"  Rod- 
ney pleaded.  "  Please  let  him  alone,  can't  you  see 
Joan  is  excited." 

"  She's  always  excited,"  Prudence  snapped 
crossly,  as  she  prodded  Don  out  of  the  room. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  Rodney  comforted. 

"  I  can't  mind  now,  but  I  shall  feel  perfectly  ter- 
rible over  my  excitement  getting  dear  old  Don  in 
trouble,  after  I  have  time  to  recover  from  the  thrills 
this  letter  has  brought  me." 

Rodney  smiled  and  flung  himself  down  in  a  great 
armchair.  He  knew  full  well  that  Joan  would 
perch  on  the  arm  of  it  the  next  instant. 

He  was  not  mistaken.  In  her  favorite  place,  on 
the  chair  arm,  her  cheek  pressed  close  against 

273 


274       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney's,  Joan  held  out  at  arm  length  the  cause 
of  her  excitement. 

"  Listen,  Rodney  White !  Just  listen,  '  Miss  Joan 
Worthington,  Rainbow  Springs,  California.'  Now, 
what  do  you  think  of  that?  Just  think  of  being 
called  '  Miss.'  I  am  so  thrilled,  Rodney." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  Joan  being  thrilled, 
her  dancing  eyes  and  glowing  face  testified  elo- 
quently to  the  excitement  that  had  set  its  signals 
there. 

"Have  you  opened  it?"  Rodney  asked,  sud- 
denly. 

Joan  looked  at  him  reproachfully. 

"As  if  I  would,  Rodney,  when  I  never  would 
have  had  it  if  it  were  not  for  you.  I'm  not  half 
as  ungrateful  for  all  you've  done  for  me  as  were 
the  Israelites  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  I  am  grateful 
to  him,  too,  for  leading  me  to  you  that  night — 
more  grateful  than  you  can  imagine — I  don't  see 
how  I  ever  lived  all  those  weary,  weary  years  with- 
out you,  Rodney."  Very  sober  and  serious  was 
Joan  now,  as  she  half  smothered  her  guardian  with 
a  bear-like  hug. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  ever  managed  to  live  without 
you  either,  little  sunshine,"  Rodney  returned,  with 
a  catch  in  his  breath.  He  often  wondered  these 
days  how  he  would  have  lived,  all  the  months  here 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       275 

at  Rainbow  Springs,  without  the  child.  The  words 
of  the  old  minister  came  back  to  him,  as  he  held 
Joan  close  in  his  arms.  He  repeated  them,  softly, 
"  '  She  is  a  sweet  spirit  come  to  Rainbow  Springs 
to  bring  peace  to  the  hearts  of  many.' '  How  true 
the  prophecy  had  been!  She  had  indeed  brought 
peace  to  the  hearts  of  many.  More  than  one  had 
died  a  Christian  because  of  her.  Almost  every  day 
he  heard  from  some  one,  "  She  has  taught  me  how 
to  live — and  how  to  die." 

"  Wake  up  and  let's  open  it."  Joan's  laughing 
voice  brought  him  out  of  his  reverie. 

"  Let  us  do  so — of  course  it  is  from  Arth's 
Jeanette — we'll  go  to  meet  her  together  and  bring 
her  to  him,  what  say  ?  "  he  cried,  boyishly. 

"  Oh,  how  fascinating  that  will  be !  "  Joan  be- 
gan to  carefully  tear  open  the  envelope.  She  was 
never  one  to  slur  the  happiness  of  anticipation  by 
undue  haste. 

"  I  shall  feel  that  I  have  not  lived  in  vain  if  dear 
Mr.  Arth's  wife  comes — before  it  is  too  late  " — 
her  voice  trembled. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  It  is  not  from  her,"  she  wailed,  as 
womanlike  she  read  the  name  signed  at  the  close 
of  the  letter,  before  beginning  to  read  the  letter 
itself. 

"  What  now?  "  Prudence  demanded,  as  she  came 


276      JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

into  the  room,  over  her  sulk  about  the  forbidden 
entrance  of  Don. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  My  fond  hopes  are  all  shattered. 
I  fear  I  have  lived  in  vain,"  Joan  wailed. 

"Well,  I  never!"  Prudence  sniffed,  as  she 
stooped  and  picked  the  letter  up  from  the  floor 
where  it  had  fallen  from  Joan's  nerveless  fingers. 

"  Joan,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  cry  on  Rodney's 
shirt  fronts,"  she  said.  "  It  makes  them  hard  to 
wash,"  with  a  note  of  dry  humor  in  her  voice. 

"  Does  it,  Aunt  Prudence  ?  "  Joan  sprang  peni- 
tently to  her  feet.  "  I'll  cry  some  place  else  when 
I  have  to  burst  into  tears  again." 

Rodney  pressed  his  lips  together  in  rigid  deter- 
mination not  to  hurt  the  child  by  laughing,  but  his 
eyes  danced  behind  half-closed  lids. 

"  Come  back,  Joan,"  he  entreated,  when  he  could 
control  his  voice  enough  to  speak. 

"  Not  until  I  am  perfectly  sure  I  shall  weep  no 
more,"  Joan  returned,  with  a  little  catch  in  her 
voice. 

"  Suppose  you  read  your  letter,"  Prudence  sug- 
gested. Prudence  was  endowed  with  a  certain 
amount  of  feminine  curiosity. 

"  I  suppose  I  might  as  well,"  Joan  said,  slowly. 
"  But  it  is  perfectly  dreadful  to  know  it  is  not  from 
Mr.  Arth's  wife.  I  think  I  can  safely  sit  on  your 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       277 

chair  arm,  now,  Rodney.  I  am  quite  sure  I  have 
perfect  control  of  myself."  She  turned  to  Pru- 
dence. "  I'll  try  to  remember  not  to  cry  on  Rod- 
ney in  the  future,  Aunt  Prudence,  but  just  imagine 
what  a  pleasure  it  is  to  have  some  one  to  cry  on 
after  a  life-time  spent  in  bearing  one's  sorrows 
alone.  I  assure  you,  however,  that  I  am  exceed- 
ingly sorry  to  have  added  to  your  care  of  me  by 
yielding  to  such  an  extremely  feminine  weakness. 

"  You  have  been  more  than  kind  to  bear  it  in 
silence  so  long.  I  certainly  appreciate  the  many 
times  I  have  been  allowed  to  cry  on  Rodney." 

"  Well,  read  your  letter,"  Prudence  snapped,  but 
her  eyes,  as  they  met  Rodney's,  were  not  devoid  of 
humor. 

The  letter  was  from  the  hermit  doctor — a  nice 
cordial  little- letter  in  which  the  hermit  doctor  an- 
nounced that  he  was  enthusiastic  over  his  first  im- 
pressions of  the  new  cure  for  tuberculosis.  The 
letter  closed  with  best  wishes  to  all  and  a  brief 
mention  of  a  small  present  for  Joan  and  Mona, 
being  forwarded  by  express. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  perfectly  splendid  to  think  of  hav- 
ing a  present  sent  by  express!  I  really  don't  see 
how  I  am  to  live  until  it  conies.  I  am  thrilling  all 
over,  nice  cold  shivers  of  joy  are  playing  hide-and- 
go-seek  all  over  me." 


278       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney  smiled  at  the  happy  child. 

"  I  must  go  right  over  and  tell  Mona,"  she  cried, 
and  was  off  like  a  flash,  waving  the  letter  high  above 
her  head. 

"  Come  on,  Don,"  she  shouted,  and  Don  leaped 
and  bounded  beside  her,  his  grief  over  being 
ejected  from  the  house  forgotten  in  this  new, 
wild  dash. 

"  What  is  it,  my  friend  ?  "  Mona  asked,  with  a 
note  of  amusement  in  her  soft,  flowery  voice,  as 
Joan  faced  her,  flushed  and  breathless. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  Cave  of  Rest,"  Joan  panted. 

"If  you  wish,  but  what  is  that?"  Mona  indi- 
cated the  letter  still  held  triumphantly  aloft. 

"  It  is  the  reason  we  are  going  to  the  Cave  of 
Rest."  Joan  pressed  Mona's  hand.  "  We'll  not  say 
a  single  word  until  we  get  there,  please." 

Mona  nodded  acquiescence.  So  they  climbed  the 
well-worn  trail  to  the  Cave  of  Rest  in  breathless 
silence — a  silence  broken  only  by  Don's  exuberant 
barks,  as  he  dashed  ahead  of  them,  seeking  some 
imaginary  prey. 

At  the  Cave  of  Rest,  Mona  listened  in  silence, 
while  Joan  read  the  brief  letter. 

"  I  am  radiantly  happy,  aren't  you,  Mona  ?  "  Joan 
demanded,  leaning  back  against  her  friend,  with  a 
little  sigh  of  joy. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       279 

Mona  smiled  dreamily.  "  When  you  are  happy, 
little  friend,  I,  Mona,  am  more  than  happy." 

"  Isn't  it  splendid  not  to  know  his  name,"  Joan 
went  on,  not  noticing  that  Mona  had  expressed  hap- 
piness only  because  of  her  pleasure. 

Mona  nodded. 

"  The  hermit  doctor ! "  Joan  rolled  the  words 
luxuriously.  "  That  is  the  way  he  signs  himself 
here,  Mona,  and  I  have  imagined  the  most  wonder- 
ful story  about  him.  I  have  asked  ever  so  many 
what  his  real  name  is  and  no  one  knows,  not  even 
the  Major  nor  Mr.  Welch." 

"  Tell  your  imagined  story,"  Mona  demanded. 

Joan  flung  herself  down  on  the  blanket-covered 
bowlder,  near  the  entrance  to  the  cave,  face  down, 
her  chin  buried  in  the  hollows  of  her  hands,  her 
eyes  glowing  as  they  ever  glowed  when  her  soul 
took  flight  to  the  realm  of  fancy. 

Mona  took  her  place  on  a  small  flat  rock  facing 
her,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  chin  in  her  palm, 
silent — a  world  of  mystery  in  her  great  dark  eyes. 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  he  has  a  secret  sorrow," 
Joan  said,  with  her  eyes  on  the  twin  palms,  re- 
vealed through  the  half -concealed  opening  of  the 
cave. 

"  A  secret  sorrow  that  gnaws  at  his  very  vitals 
with  a  consuming  fierceness.  I  read  that  in  a  book 


280       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

once,  Mona,  so  don't  credit  me  with  thinking  up 
such  a  beautiful  expression." 

Joan  closed  her  eyes  dreamily. 

"  In  the  dear,  dead  past  he  must  have  loved  a 
beautiful  maiden  with  glorious  blue  eyes  and  sun- 
kissed  hair.  I  think  he  and  the  beautiful  maiden 
must  have  married  and  lived  in  unspeakable  happi- 
ness for  a  brief — all  too  brief  a  time.  That  last  is 
another  sentence  out  of  the  same  book,  but  it  de- 
scribes my  feelings  about  this  perfectly.  The  hero- 
ine in  the  book  had  raven  hair  and  an  alabaster 
brow,  with  teeth  of  pearl  and  midnight  eyes,  but 
the  hermit  doctor  would  never  find  a  kindred  spirit 
in  any  one  who  had  raven  hair  and  midnight  eyes — 
I  feel  that  instinctively.  I  imagine  Miss  Reeves 
is  very  like  his  beautiful  bride  must  have  been. 

"  Mona,  do  you  know  you  have  very  romantic 
hair? — copper-hued  tresses  and  even  red  hair  is  so 
romantic,  so  many,  many  heroines  have  red  hair. 
Of  course  raven  hair  is  also  popular,  but  then  I  do 
not  care  for  raven-haired  heroines.  Every  one  does 
not  see  alike,  and  Rodney  says :  '  It  is  a  splendid 
thing  they  do  not.'  I  am  sure  everything  is  very 
interesting  the  way  it  is,  and  it  is  naturally  perfect 
or  the  Lord  would  not  have  made  so  many  different 
people  in  the  beginning.  You  remember  He  speaks 
of  divers  tongues  and  many  diversities  of  things — 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       281 

that  does  not  sound  just  right,  but  the  meaning  is 
perfectly  clear  to  me." 

"  But  what  about  the  doctor  and  the  beautiful 
maiden  ?  "  demanded  Mona.  Mona  was  interested 
in  the  fancy. 

"  Oh,  they  lived  in  happiness  and  beauty  side  by 
side,"  returned  Joan,  cheerfully.  "  Don't  you  think 
the  hermit  doctor  could  be  called  beautiful,  Mona? 
I  do.  I  suppose  Miss  Reeves  would  call  him  hand- 
some. His  eyes  are  so  sad  when  he  forgets  him- 
self, and  his  face  is  so  long  and  perfect.  Hand- 
some men  seem  to  always  have  long,  clean-cut  faces 
and  sad  eyes." 

"  Go  on,"  Mona  pleaded. 

"  Well,"  Joan  said,  resignedly.  "  I'll  go  on  with 
the  story,  Mona  dear,  but  it  is  nice  to  'sidetrack/ 
as  Rodney  calls  it.  For  the  sake  of  my  own  feel- 
ings I  shall  call  both  the  hermit  doctor  and  the 
maiden  beautiful,  as  they  lived  in  joy  supreme  until 
the  villain  comes  upon  the  scene  and  with  one  blow 
of  his  evil  breath  smites  their  fond  hearts  asunder. 

"  He — I  mean  the  villain,  now — carries  the  beau- 
tiful bride  away  and  hides  her  in  a  lonely  prison 
until  she  dies  of  a  broken  heart.  Then  the  villain 
tells  the  beautiful  man  that  he  may  as  well  cease  his 
search  for  his  lost  joy,  up  and  down  and  to  and 
fro  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  for  the  beautiful  bride 


282       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

is  dead.  The  villain  will  not  even  tell  the  beau- 
tiful man  where  the  body  of  the  heart-broken 
maiden  rests — so  the  sorrowful  husband  turns  his 
face  toward  the  setting  sun  and  no  man  from  that 
day  has  known  his  name.  I  have  sometimes  thought 
there  might  have  been  a  beautiful,  golden-haired 
child  come  to  cheer  the  broken-hearted  maiden,  but 
it  seemed  so  perfectly  heartless  to  kill  it  off,  as  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to,  for  even  a  villain 
would  not  have  been  so  hard-hearted  as  to  have  kept 
a  little  child  from  the  heart-broken  husband  after 
the  beautiful  bride  was  dead." 

"  It  sounds  lovely,"  sighed  Mona.  "  I  don't  see 
how  you  ever  imagine  such  things,  Joan." 

"  It's  easy,  Mona,  dear.  You  could  imagine  per- 
fectly fascinating  things  if  you  would  only  cultivate 
your  imagination.  I  know  you  dream  beautiful 
things.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  some  of 
them." 

Mona  smiled  at  her.    "  You  tell;  Mona  listen." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  the  fairy  tale  I  have  imagined 
for  the  close  of  school  ?  "  Joan  sprang  to  her  feet, 
quivering  with  excitement. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Mona  cried,  eagerly. 

"  You  know  I  am  to  speak  the  Fern  piece, 
Mona?" 

Mona  nodded,  her  lips  parted  in  a  little   half 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       283 

smile.     She  had  listened  to  Joan  recite  the  Fern 
piece  at  least  fifty  times. 

"  Well,  the  other  day,  Miss  Reeves  asked  me  to 
tell  a  fairy  tale  of  my  own  besides  the  Fern  piece 
which,  as  you  know,  comes  right  at  the  beginning 
of  the  programme.  Miss  Reeves  says  I  may  choose 
any  of  those  I  have  been  telling  Friday  afternoons, 
but  I  shall  give  an  entirely  new  one — one  that  will 
surprise  even  Miss  Reeves.  I  am  sure  Mr.  Arth 
is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair.  He  has  al- 
ways wanted  all  the  boys  at  the  Major's  to  hear 
some  of  the  fairy  tales  I  have  imagined  in  the  past 
and  all  the  boys  are  coming  to  the  exercises.  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  have  stage  fright,  Mona,  but  I  shall 
try  to  do  my  best  for  Rodney's  sake.  I  want  you, 
too,  and  Mr.  Arth  and  Miss  Reeves  to  be  proud  of 
my  achievement.  I  shall  spend  the  last  half  hour, 
before  the  exercises,  in  prayer.  I  am  sure  that  will 
strengthen  me.  I  am  sure  the  Major  will  be  there, 
and  I  would  rather  die  an  untimely  death  than  to 
fail  before  him.  I  know  the  Lord  says :  '  Love  your 
enemies,'  and  I  feel  instinctively  that  the  Major  is 
my  enemy.  I  felt  it  even  before  this  coldness 
sprang  up  that  exists  between  him  and  Aunt  Pru- 
dence. Impossible  as  it  may  seem  for  people  of  their 
age  to  fall  in  love,  I  believe  the  Major  is  in  love  with 
Aunt  Prudence  or  at  least  he  has  pretended  to  be 


284       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

in  love  with  her.  For  a  time  I  think  she  recipro- 
cated his  affections,  but  she  does  not  seem  to  like 
him  at  all  now. 

"  Any  one  could  tell  at  a  glance  that  they  were 
not  kindred  souls,  and  it  is  a  mistake  for  any  one 
to  love  one  who  is  not  a  kindred  soul,  Mona, 
dear. 

"  Rodney  says  Mr.  Welch  is  in  love  with  Aunt 
Prudence,  really  and  truly  in  love,  and  I  am  sure  if 
Aunt  Prudence  is  going  to  take  unto  herself  a  hus- 
band at  her  time  of  life  I  hope  for  her  own  sake 
she  takes  Mr.  Welch.  Mr.  Welch  is  a  good  man, 
Mona." 

"What  is  the  fairy  tale?"  Mona  interrupted. 
Mona  could  not  even  imagine  the  austere  Prudence 
a  bride. 

"  This  is  the  story  of  The  Silver  Squirrel,"  Joan 
said,  dreamily,  settling  herself  back  down  on  the 
blanket. 

"  Come,  Don,  you  must  listen,"  she  commanded, 
as  Don  dashed  into  the  cave. 

Don  possessed  a  sense  of  duty.  He  lay  down 
beside  her,  and  struggled  hard  to  keep  his  eyes  open 
— tried  to  remain  alert,  but  was  fast  asleep  almost 
before  the  story  began. 

"  Oh,  that  is  beautiful,"  Mona  cried,  when  Joan 
finished. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS      285 

When  they  reached  home  in  the  mystic  twilight, 
the  express  package,  from  the  hermit  doctor,  had 
arrived. 

Joan  watched  Rodney  pry  the  lid  off  the  box,  in 
reverent,  silent  expectancy.  Mona,  from  her  seat  in 
a  shadowy  corner,  dreamily  watched  the  face  of 
her  friend,  alive  with  anticipation. 

At  last  the  cover  was  off  the  box  and  Rodney 
held  out  two  tissue-wrapped  parcels. 

Joan  opened  her  package  with  trembling  fingers, 
while  Mona  held  hers  in  her  arms  and  crooned 
softly  over  it,  as  Joan,  having  opened  her  package, 
shook  out  a  filmy  white  dress — a  dress  that  was  a 
dainty  thing  of  pin  tucks  and  lace  ruffles. 

"  There  is  a  note  pinned  to  it,"  Prudence  re- 
marked, having  observed  more  closely  than  the 
others. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  "  Joan  panted,  her  breath  coming 
short  and  fast. 

Prudence  feigned  to  be  contemptuously  setting 
the  supper  table,  but  nevertheless  had  watched  the 
scene  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  with  an  ill-con- 
cealed air  of  interest. 

"  Yes,  read  the  note,  Joan,"  Rodney  prompted, 
his  eyes  shining. 

"  After  Mona  opens  her  present,"  Joan  returned, 
in  an  awed  little  voice. 


286       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Yes,  open  yours,  Mona,"  commanded  Prudence, 
her  voice  icy.  c<  Joan  will  not  be  able  to  enjoy  her 
dress  with  her  usual  complete  abstraction  unless 
your  dress — I  suppose  that  is  what  it  is — has  the 
same  number  of  tucks  in  it." 

"  Open  yours  quickly,  Mona,"  Rodney  urged. 

Mona's  ringers  trembled  as  she  opened  her  par- 
cel, but  her  face  was  inscrutably  expressionless,  save 
for  the  great  glowing  eyes. 

Mona's  package  proved  to  contain  a  dress  the 
exact  duplicate  of  Joan's,  except  it  was  some  longer 
and  a  little  larger  in  size. 

"  Why,  Joan,  what  is  it?  "  Rodney  demanded,  as 
Joan  started  toward  him,  eyes  misty  with  tears,  then 
suddenly  dashed  around  on  the  side  of  the  table 
opposite  him. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  I  am  so  happy,  Rodney.  Oh !  Rod- 
ney !  Rodney !  I  am  so  happy !  "  Joan  laid  her 
dress  across  a  chair  and  turned  radiant  but  misty 
eyes  to  Rodney. 

"  I  came  very  near  bursting  into  tears  on  your 
shirt  front  after  promising  Aunt  Prudence  this 
very  afternoon  that  I  would  be  careful  in  the  future. 
I  am  glad  I  never  cried  on  you  this  time,  Rodney. 
And  now  I  think  I  am  sufficiently  controlled  to  read 
the  note." 

The  note  ran : 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       287 

"  I  believe  little  girls  always  wear  fluffy  white 
dresses  on  the  last  day  of  school.  I  send  these  to 
you  and  Mona  in  memory  of  the  night  Mona  came 
for  me  on  King  Solomon — the  night  I  found  you 
at  Arth's.  I  am  sure  your  guardian  will  not  grudge 
me  this  pleasure. 

"  THE  HERMIT  DOCTOR." 

"  Oh,  how  perfectly  lovely !  "  Joan  cried.  "  I  am 
so  happy.  I  hope  this  is  not  all  a  happy  dream — 
but  every  good  thing  has  been  real  since  I  came  to 
you,  Rodney." 

Rodney  held  out  his  arms,  as  she  fluttered  toward 
him  for  an  instant. 

"  I  suppose  I'd  better  not."  She  retreated  with  a 
wry  little  smile.  "  I'm  shivering  all  over  with  hap- 
piness and  I  might  burst  into  tears  if  I  was  too  near 
you." 

Rodney  looked  at  his  aunt  reproachfully. 

Prudence  turned  away,  a  grim  little  smile  twitch- 
ing at  her  lips. 

"  Come  on  to  supper,"  she  said,  tartly.  "  Yes, 
ask  Mona  to  stay,"  she  responded  to  the  wistful 
look  in  Joan's  eyes.  "  There  is  no  use  in  my  trying 
to  use  judgment  and  discretion  with  you  when  every 
one  else  is  determined  to  spoil  you." 

"  I  don't  see  how  I'm  ever  going  to  eat,  even  your 
delicious  cooking,  Aunt  Prudence.  I  know  I  am 


288       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

not  up  to  your  standard  of  a  good  little  girl,  but 
I  just  can't  be  prim  and  sedate,  no  matter  how  hard 
I  try,  when  I  am  so  perfectly  happy  as  I  am.  When 
is  Dad  coming  back?  "  she  turned  to  Rodney.  "  I 
feel  that  he  and  Mr.  Arth  must  see  our  dresses  to- 
night." 

"  Well,  eat  your  supper  now,"  was  Prudence's 
crisp  reply.  "  I  will  do  the  dishes  to-night.  You 
will  have  time  to  show  your  dress  to  Mr.  Arth 
and  the  teacher,  too.  When  does  Miss  Reeves 
leave?"  she  asked  of  Rodney.  The  next  instant 
she  regretted  mentioning  the  leaving  of  Miss  Reeves 
for  her  summer  vacation,  because  Joan  instantly 
burst  into  tears.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  bear 
even  the  thought  of  not  seeing  her  beloved  teacher 
for  more  than  three  months. 

Not  until  she  saw  Arth  did  Joan  remember  her 
disappointment  that  the  hermit  doctor's  letter  was 
not  from  Arth's  wife.  When  she  looked  into  his 
pale  face,  she  most  bitterly  reproached  herself  for 
her  delight  in  the  dainty  dress,  and  that  night  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep  because  of  her  selfishness  in  being 
happy  when  he  was  miserable. 

The  last  day  of  school  came  at  last.  In  mid- 
afternoon  the  closing  exercises  were  held. 

When  Rodney  complimented  Joan  on  her  ap- 
pearance, as  she  stood  expectant  before  him,  she 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       289 

stood  on  tiptoe  and  flung  vehement  arms  about  his 
neck. 

"  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney !  I  do  love  to  have  you 
think  I  look  nice.  Of  course  I  know  I  shall  never 
be  a  perfectly  ravishing  beauty  like  Mona  is,  but 
I  do  love  to  look  nice  to  you.  Your  opinion  means 
everything  in  the  whole  world  to  me."  Now  there 
came  a  liquid  vibration  to  her  words  like  the  quiver 
of  a  thrush's  note. 

Rodney  caught  her  to  him.  A  pang,  which  he 
tried  to  banish  as  unworthy  of  him,  went  through 
him  and  lingered  with  a  haunting  sense  of  regret 
because  the  fluffy  dress,  that  enhanced  the  spiritual 
look  of  the  child,  had  not  been  his  gift  instead  of 
the  gift  of  a  man  whose  name  he  did  not  even 
know,  yet  he  counted  the  man  his  friend. 

"  You  look  very  neat,  and  if  you  behave  as  a 
proper  child  should  you'll  be  a  credit  to  Rodney, 
but  don't  give  us  any  giant  nonsense."  Prudence 
ended  her  speech  with  a  sound  that  might  have  been 
a  grunt  of  disdain  or  a  sniff  of  appreciation. 

Prudence  was  gaunt  and  gray,  endowed  with 
numerous  angles,  but  Joan,  walking  between  her 
and  Rodney,  was  very  proud  of  the  middle-aged 
woman  in  her  rustling  gray  silk  dress.  To  please 
Prudence,  Joan  tried  to  keep  her  restive  feet  atune 
with  Prudence's  sedate  walk,  but  it  was  impossible. 


290       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

In  spite  of  her,  her  feet  would  dance  in  a  very  ex- 
uberance of  joy,  all  the  way  down  the  sandy  road 
to  the  schoolhouse. 

But  when  she  stood  facing  her  audience,  an  hour 
later,  she  was,  as  she  afterward  expressed  it, 
"  frightfully  weak-kneed."  The  stage  fright  lasted 
only  an  instant.  Joan  caught  a  mocking  gleam  in 
the  Major's  eyes,  and,  as  it  had  once  before,  it  now 
spurred  her  on  to  an  achievement  of  which  Rodney 
was  justly  proud. 

Rodney  played  his  violin  that  day — played  stir- 
ring patriotic  hymns  they  all  knew.  The  violin 
throbbed  and  thrilled  with  delightful  little  love  songs 
that  flew  straight  to  the  heart  with  thrilling,  an- 
swering intensity. 

Dad  Sherwood  gave  a  beautiful  and  whimsically 
humorous  address — and  the  old  minister  had,  in  his 
native  city  been  famous  for  his  gift  of  humor. 

Lois  and  four  college  boys,  rapidly  recovering 
their  health,  gave  a  comical  little  farce  that  brought 
the  house  down. 

Joan  told  the  tale  of  the  Silver  Squirrel  and  was 
vigorously  applauded. 

To  please  Arth,  who  was  there,  very  pale  and 
weak,  Lois  closed  the  programme  with  a  poem 
written  by  herself,  which  Arth  had  read  that  month 
in  a  Los  Angeles  magazine. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       291 

Lois  gave  the  poem  in  a  somewhat  shaky  voice, 
because  the  effort  was  her  own,  but  she  looked  so 
sweet  and  winsome  that  Rodney  wished  the  hermit 
doctor  were  there  to  see  her.  Rodney  had  caught 
the  light  in  the  doctor's  eyes,  brought  there  by  Lois, 
and  he  had  read  the  light  aright. 

While  Lois  spoke,  Joan  held  tight  to  Rodney's 
hand,  breathing  sharply  to  keep  from  crying  then 
and  there  because  her  beloved  teacher  was  going 
away  in  the  morning  for  three  long  months. 

So  the  shuttle  of  life  ever  flies  swiftly  to  and 
fro — weaving  and  interweaving  threads  of  pleasure 
and  pain  in  the  strange  web  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

JULY  came  with  a  glare  of  heat.  Waves  of 
heat  rolled  in  like  billows  across  the  white, 
shadowless  desert  that  stretched  itself  in  glis- 
tening, heat-parched  grandeur  between  Rainbow 
Springs  and  the  station  seven  miles  away. 

Day  by  day  the  sun-struck  air  lay  somnolent,  un- 
quivering  under  the  serene  sapphire  sky,  but  the 
nights  were  cool,  under  their  jeweled  canopies. 

Joan  spent  the  greater  part  of  each  heat-bound 
day  with  Arth,  who  grew  steadily  weaker  until  even 
the  child  knew  the  end  was  near. 

Sam  Welch  spent  the  nights  with  the  sick  man 
and  was  as  tender  with  him  as  a  woman  could  have 
been. 

The  evenings  Rodney  and  Joan  spent  in  the  sad- 
dle. Sometimes  Mona  accompanied  them,  but  more 
often  they  went  alone.  Usually  they  had  no  par- 
ticular goal  as  to  the  course  they  took,  leaving  the 
choice  with  Joan's  Shetland  pony,  which  she  had 
christened  Pegasus,  after  much  consideration  of 
the  subject.  The  name  was  a  misnomer.  This 
Pegasus  was  a  slow,  plodding  little  beast,  with  a 
manner  that  suggested  that  he  had  grown  weary  of 

292 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       293 

the  civilization  in  which  he  had  played  a  part  before 
Rodney  had  him  brought  to  the  desert  oasis  from 
Los  Angeles.  Each  evening,  as  if  atavistically  re- 
calling scenes  of  some  former  wildness,  he  always 
took  to  the  trails  that  led  up  some  wild  canyon,  on 
being  given  free  rein. 

On  these  trips  Joan  wove  many  fancies  while 
she  and  Rodney  rode  in  silence.  Twilight  on  the 
desert  is  the  time  for  silence  as  the  desert  itself  is 
the  place  for  reflection. 

Rodney  and  Joan  never  tired  of  the  infinite  va- 
riety of  the  desert's  colorings,  ever  changing  ac- 
cording to  the  hour  and  the  atmospheric  condition. 
The  mountains  were  almost  irresistibly  alluring, 
now  tinted  with  a  glorious  sapphire,  now  purple- 
veiled,  now  shadowy,  moon-tipped  outlines. 

It  was  after  one  of  these  rides,  they  found  Welch 
at  the  cottage  with  a  telegram  for  Joan.  Rodney 
opened  the  yellow  envelope  with  trembling  fingers. 
At  that  moment  he  thought  some  ill  had  happened 
the  hermit  doctor,  but  the  message  was  from 
Jeanette  Arth,  and  read : 

"  Miss  JOAN  WORTHINGTON, 

"  Rainbow  Springs,  Cal. 

"  Received  your  letter  in  Paris — will  reach  Rain- 
bow Springs  to-night, 

"  JEANETTE  ARTH." 


294       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

When  Rodney  had  finished  reading  the  message, 
Joan  dashed  into  her  room,  banging  the  door  be- 
hind her. 

"  What  now,  I  wonder  ?  "  Rodney  exclaimed.  "  I 
thought  she  would  take  the  direction  of  Arth's." 

"  I  suppose  she  went  in  there  to  pray  some  of  her 
thankfulness  out,"  Prudence  returned,  dryly.  "  I 
have  tried  hard  enough,  goodness  knows,  to  teach 
her  that  praying  before  people  is  not  just  the  thing. 
She  goes  to  her  room  now  when  she  gets  prayer- 
struck.  I've  broken  her  of  her  eternal  quoting  of 
the  Bible,  too,"  Prudence  added,  with  a  self-satisfied 
sniff. 

"  Well,  now,  I  like  to  hear  the  little  thing  pray. 
She  quotes  Scripture  down  there  every  day  and  we 
enjoy  it,"  Welch  said,  wagging  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  Arth's  cottage. 

"  Humph !  "  Prudence  snorted.  "  I  don't  know 
who  spoils  her  the  most." 

"  She  couldn't  be  spoiled,"  Welch  returned,  as 
Joan  entered  the  room.  She  had,  as  Prudence  said, 
gone  to  offer  up  a  prayer  of  gratitude. 

"  Holy  smoke ! "  Welch  ejaculated,  struck  by  a 
sudden  thought,  and  losing  for  an  instant  his  sor- 
rowful air.  "  When  is  she  to  come,  Rodney?  " 

"  To-night."    Rodney  scanned  the  telegram  again. 

"  Well,   I'll  hike  right  over   for  her — want  to 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       295 

come  along,  young  lady?  Seeing  as  she  wouldn't 
be  here  but  for  you,  I  reckon  you  should  go  'long." 

"  She'd  better  go  to  bed,"  Prudence  snapped. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  Prudence  who  helped  Joan  get 
ready  for  the  trip  while  Welch  hitched  up. 

It  was  decided  that  Rodney  should  prepare  Arth 
for  his  wife's  coming. 

They  found  Arth's  wife  pacing  up  and  down  the 
little  station  platform,  eagerly  awaiting  some  one  to 
take  her  to  the  Springs — and  Arth. 

Jeanette  Arth  was  a  graceful  little,  bird-like  per- 
son— a  lovely  fashioning  of  God. 

"  Oh,  please,  please  don't  let  me  be  too  late ! " 
she  prayed  over  and  over,  as  she  waited  alone  on 
the  little  deserted  station  platform,  her  lips  tight- 
pressed  with  pain. 

Joan  never  forgot  that  ride  across  the  desert 
with  Jeanette  Arth's  hand  tightly  clasping  her's, 
while  she  told  Arth's  wife  of  Arth  as  she  knew 
him. 

"  I  can  never  repay  you  for  what  you  have  done 
for  Billie — never,  never !  "  Jeanette  cried,  when 
Joan  had  finished.  The  barking  of  the  Indian  dogs 
now  heralded  the  nearness  of  the  village. 

"  There  is  no  question  of  pay,"  Joan  returned 
stiffly,  drawing  her  hand  away. 


296       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Jeanette  Arth  impulsively  drew  the  child  to  her. 

"  Dear  little  girl,  I  did  not  mean  money  pay — I 
mean  a  repayment  in  love  and  gratitude !  " 

Joan  snuggled  close  to  the  dainty  little  woman. 
"  I  will  be  glad  to  have  you  love  me,"  she  said,  win- 
somely.  "  I  instinctively  felt  that  you  were  a  kin- 
dred spirit  when  Mr.  Arth  first  mentioned  you. 
When  I  saw  you  at  the  station  I  was  sure  of  it. 
I  sorrowfully  feared  I  was  mistaken  a  minute  ago, 
but  I  am  thrilling  with  happiness  now  I  understand 
your  meaning." 

Jeanette  kissed  the  child  just  as  Welch  drew  rein 
in  front  of  Arth's  shack. 

"  He  lives  here,"  Welch  said,  succinctly. 

"  This  will  be  the  happiest  moment  of  the  dear 
man's  life,"  Joan  cried,  as  she  sprang  out  of  the 
carriage. 

"  You  go  in  first,"  Jeanette  returned,  in  a 
quavering  voice.  A  band  of  fear  had  suddenly 
tightened  about  her  heart.  Oh,  if  she  should  be 
too  late — too  late  to  tell  him  she  had  always  loved 
him — to  tell  him  how  she  had  traveled  night  and 
day  ever  since  Joan's  letter  reached  her  in  Paris 
where  she  had  gone  in  a  vain  attempt  to  stifle  her 
longing  for  him!  Oh,  how  she  prayed  for  time 
enough  in  which  to  tell  him  she  had  not  known  of 
his  sickness  until  that  letter  came — if  she  had 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       297 

known  she  would  have  been  with  him  and  shared 
his  suffering  ! 

She  stood  silent,  almost  frozen  with  fear  while 
Joan  dashed  into  the  cottage. 

Joan  came  flying  out  almost  instantly,  eyes  alight, 
face  aglow  in  the  moonlight  like  the  face  of  some 
ethereal  creature.  "  He's  better  this  evening  than 
he  has  been  for  months,"  Joan  panted.  "  He  is 
waiting  for  you.  Hurry,  please,  hurry!  Rodney 
told  him.  He  is  waiting  for  you.  Oh,  hurry! 
Hurry!" 

"  Yes — I'll — hurry."  Jeanette  Arth's  tongue  al- 
most refused  to  frame  the  words.  She  felt  sud- 
denly very  weak  and  faint  and  was  exceedingly 
glad  of  the  child's  aid  to  the  door. 

It  seemed  years  before  she  could  cross  the 
threshold — an  eternity  of  time  before  she  had  her 
arms  about  the  gaunt,  eager-eyed  man,  who  held 
out  pitiful  shrunken  arms  to  her. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  happy,"  Joan  cried,  as  she  and  Rod- 
ney went  home,  leaving  the  two  alone  together. 

The  angel  of  death  hovered  over  the  little  cot- 
tage that  night  where  joy  and  sorrow  mingled 
together  in  a  sweet,  plaintive  melody.  In  the  early 
morning,  when  the  sky  was  threaded  with  the  rose 
tints  of  dawn,  death  entered  and  went  forth  not 
alone. 


298       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

The  old  minister  was  passing  the  cottage  at  the 
time.  He  went  in  in  answer  to  the  cry  of  the 
woman.  Dad  Sherwood  had  been  at  many  death- 
bed scenes,  but  never  had  his  sympathies  been,  as 
now,  worked  to  their  highest  pitch. 

The  presence  that  lingers  after  death  seemed  to 
fill  the  little  room  with  an  almost  unsupportable 
majesty,  oppressing  him  like  the  weight  of  many 
waters. 

He  stood  silent  and  bowed,  sorrowful,  for  a 
time  looking  down  on  the  majestic  outlines  of  the 
form  of  his  friend.  A  few  minutes  later  his  face 
was  glorified  and  he  began  to  comfort  the  woman 
who  had  not  been  too  late  to  give  unspeakable  joy 
to  the  man  she  had  always  loved. 

"  Try  not  to  grieve  so,"  he  said,  tenderly,  laying 
his  slender  hand  on  the  shaking  figure  of  the  woman 
kneeling  beside  her  dead.  "  Can  you  not,  at  a  time 
like  this,  unburden  your  heart  to  the  Man  of  Sor- 
rows ?  "  he  pleaded. 

The  answer  was  a  moaning  cry. 

"  He  wants  to  comfort  and  strengthen  you,"  he 
pleaded,  his  beautiful,  silver  voice  strong,  yet 
caressing. 

To  his  infinite  relief  the  woman  moved  away  from 
the  bed  and  looked  out  over  the  strength-giving 
desert. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       299 

He  followed  her  to  the  window. 

"  It  typifies  the  majesty  and  power  of  God,"  he 
said,  his  eyes  following  hers  across  the  desert  vast- 
ness. 

He  laid  a  hand  light  as  a  moonbeam  on  her  head. 

"  I'll  go  now,  leaving  you  in  the  hands  of  God. 
Later  I  shall  send  the  child  to  you." 

He  did  not  call  Joan's  name,  but  the  woman  knew 
he  meant  the  child  who  had  brought  her  to  her 
husband. 

"  Please  send  her  now,"  she  pleaded. 

The  old  man's  face  brightened  with  a  divine 
light. 

"  I  go  now  thankfully,"  he  returned,  leaving  the 
woman  alone  to  glide  instantly  into  one  of  those 
strange  experiences  where  all  that  happens  seems 
preordained,  a  repetition  of  something  that  hap- 
pened in  another  existance  centuries  before.  A  rare 
experience  in  which  she  saw  clearly,  for  an  instant, 
all  the  patterns  the  flying  shuttles  of  life  had  woven 
in  the  tapestry  of  her  past  life  with  Arth — saw 
dimly  the  swiftly-moving  shuttles  weaving  broken 
patterns  on  the  filmy  mesh  of  the  future — patterns 
that  at  last  were  perfect  in  another  life  where  broken 
threads  were  tied  and  on  the  tapestry  of  that  far-off 
future  life  she  and  Arth  walked  side  by  side. 

Two  days  later,  the  old  minister  opened  the  little 


300       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

church  for  the  funeral.  The  old  minister,  ever  since 
his  talk  with  Joan  about  opening  the  church,  had 
planned  to  begin  holding  regular  services  there  as 
soon  as  the  months  of  extreme  heat  were  over  and 
the  village  began  to  fill  up  again. 

There  were  only  a  few  white  people  in  the  village 
now.  The  Major  did  not  have  a  single  guest.  Al- 
most all  the  sick  folk  went  to  a  cooler  climate  dur- 
ing the  summer  months. 

Rodney  had  stayed  at  the  Springs  during  the 
summer  because  his  friend,  the  noted  physician,  ad- 
vised it.  He  was  willing  to  stay.  He  loved  the 
desert — loved  the  quiet  little  oasis.  And,  since  she 
was  so  happy  there,  he  could  not  have  taken  Joan 
away  from  Arth  these  last  weeks. 

Rodney  and  Joan  sat  by  Jeanette  Arth  that  day 
in  the  little  church  and  the  woman  held  tight  to 
Joan's  hand,  seeming  to  derive  strength  from  the 
answering  pressure  of  the  child's  slim  fingers. 

Joan  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  minister's  face. 

"  There  is  no  death,"  rang  out  the  silver  voice. 

Joan  felt  suddenly  enveloped  in  a  triumphant, 
enfolding  peace.  As  the  minister's  voice  flowed  on 
with  an  almost  divine  thrill  in  it,  she  could  see 
glistening  white-robed  angels  hovering  over  the 
casket  at  his  feet. 

She  could  see,  in  her  fancy,  the  shadowy  angel 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       301 

forms  rise  higher  and  higher  until  she  had  to  raise 
her  head  to  see  them — with  a  glad  thrill  of  joy,  she 
saw  Arth  among  them.  She  leaned  back  and  looked 
up,  up,  all  the  pent-up  faith  of  the  centuries  surging 
through  her  open  heart,  as  she  saw  the  roof  of  the 
church  rent  asunder  and  the  blue  sky  above  open  to 
receive  its  own. 

Her  face  seemed  to  Rodney  to  be  transfigured, 
as  he  looked  into  it  before  he  started  forward  to 
add  his  tribute  to  his  friend. 

Softly  upon  the  close  of  the  minister's  tribute  to 
life  came  the  voice  of  the  violin  full  of  deep  chords 
and  splendid  running  notes  of  triumph  over  that 
which  is  called  death  but  is  only  transition. 

Jeanette  had  heard  the  greatest  musical  artists  of 
the  world,  but  she  had  never  listened  to  such  play- 
ing before. 

It  counseled  acceptance  of  the  life  that  lay  be- 
fore her.  It  whispered  of  resignation  because  of 
the  life  that  had  gone  to  the  great  beyond.  It  prom- 
ised divine  restitution  throughout  countless  ages 
after  this  brief  earth-span  of  life  had  been  merged 
into  that  higher  life  that  lies  beyond  the  grave. 

Her  individual  grief  sank  into  insignificance,  as 
the  violin  spoke  softly  of  those  who  know  not  of 
the  life  that  is  for  those  who  believe,  as  it  mourned 
for  the  unbelief  of  the  world  of  sin. 


302       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Something  vast  and  appealing  took  the  place  of 
her  own  sorrow  and  heart-break,  and  in  the  great- 
ness of  it  came  peace  and  understanding.  It  seemed 
that  her  beloved  no  longer  lay  dead  but  was  alive, 
vitally  alive,  as  she  should  be  alive — divinely  alive 
— some  day. 

And  the  voice  of  the  violin  sang  on  and  on  in 
deep,  quivering  tones  that  were  a  part  of  the  beauty 
of  the  whole  world.  The  sound  of  many  waters 
ran  through  it  and  on  their  rippling  waves  there 
came  a  revelation  of  the  working  of  the  divine  law 
that  deals  with  the  infinite — came  an  understand- 
ing of  the  power  of  the  infinite  love  that  shelters 
the  finite  world — that  whispers  softly  to  the  heart 
of  each  individual,  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live 
also." 

When  the  last  note  of  the  violin  died  away,  the 
old  minister's  voice  rang  out  in  a  musical  bene- 
diction. 

And  so  it  happened  that  the  little  cortege  which 
followed  William  Arth  to  his  resting  place,  under 
a  great  pepper  tree,  just  as  the  sunset  flames  en- 
circled the  mountains  in  a  myriad  of  tints,  were 
filled  with  a  great  peace  and  a  sublime  understand- 
ing of  the  infinite  love. 

The  following  morning,  Jeanette  Arth  went  East, 
to  devote  the  rest  of  her  life  and  her  wealth  to 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       303 

those  who  had  need  of  her — to  those  of  whom  the 
violin  had  spoken. 

After  the  departure  of  Arth's  wife,  the  little  vil- 
lage settled  down  again  to  its  heat-bound  quiet. 

The  old  minister,  Welch  and  his  sister  Martha, 
Prudence,  Rodney,  and  Joan  were  the  only  white 
people  now  at  the  Springs.  The  Major  was  away 
on  a  secret  mission  of  his  own.  The  Major  had 
learned  the  reason  of  Chawa's  absence  from  the  vil- 
lage and  was  trying  to  locate  the  half-breed  lad. 

September  brought  with  it  cooler  days.  It  also 
brought  the  Major  with  a  new  Cuban  negro  cook 
and  a  horde  of  guests. 

Lois  Reeves  returned  during  the  first  week  of 
the  month  and  Joan  was  all  athrill  with  the  joy  of 
her  beloved  teacher's  presence  in  the  village.  There 
were  four  new  white  pupils  that  term.  Joan  wel- 
comed their  advent  with  her  usual  impulsiveness, 
but  the  days  of  her  happiness  in  them  were  few. 

The  four  children  were  of  two  different  families, 
and  lived,  with  their  parents,  in  two  of  the  Major's 
cottages. 

From  the  Major,  the  parents  of  the  children 
learned  that  Joan  was  an  orphan,  Mona,  her  chum, 
a  half-breed. 

Tom  and  Gertie  Peyson  would  have  treated  Joan 
and  Mona  kindly — they  were  much  taken  with  the 


304       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

two  girls — but  Maud  and  Bert  Ward,  with  whom 
they  had  chummed  in  an  Eastern  town,  had  a  shrew- 
ish and  gossiping  mother. 

The  Major  had  found  what  Joan  would  have 
called  a  kindred  spirit  in  Mrs.  Ward.  He  told  her 
a  delightfully  scandalous  tale  of  Joan's  recent  adop- 
tion by  Rodney  White.  He  accompanied  his  nar- 
rative with  many  suggestive  winks  and  deprecative 
waves  of  his  pudgy  hands  until  he  had  his  reward 
— the  woman  in  a  whirl  of  righteous  indignation 
silenced  the  protests  of  her  invalid  husband  and 
commanded  Bert  and  Maud  to  shun  Joan  and  the 
half-breed. 

The  Major  had  brought  Mona  into  the  lime-light, 
labeling  her  an  improper  associate  of  a  white  child. 

"  I  shall  start  a  school  of  my  own  here,  in  a  few 
months,"  the  Major  advanced,  pompously.  "  Not  a 
government  school,  run  by  a  government-appointed 
teacher  who  encourages  the  intermingling  of  In- 
dians and  white  children." 

The  Major  was  much  incensed  at  Lois  these 
days.  Fired  by  her  winsome  womanliness,  the  first 
day  after  her  return  to  the  Springs  he  had  mag- 
nanimously offered  to  share  himself  and  "  The  Sign 
of  the  Rainbow  "  with  her.  Lois  had  refused  the 
magnificent  offer  in  no  uncertain  terms.  This  had 
in  a  measure  increased  his  ire  at  Joan,  unjust  as 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       305 

that  was.  He  likewise  detested  the  child  more  each 
day  because  each  day  he  was  less  certain  of  ever 
winning  the  wary  Prudence. 

The  following  day,  after  the  Major's  evening 
spent  at  the  Wards'  in  slurring  Joan,  the  child  came 
home  from  school,  dejected  and  spiritless,  utterly 
unlike  the  Joan  Rodney  loved  with  every  fiber  of 
his  being. 

"  What  is  it,  little  girl  ?  "  Rodney  asked,  as  she 
passed  him  silently.  She,  who  usually  was  over- 
flowing with  laughter  and  impulsive  recountings  of 
the  happenings  of  the  school  hours. 

"  Nothing,"  Joan  answered,  in  a  lifeless  little 
voice,  as  she  went  into  her  room. 

Rodney  knew  she  had  gone  into  her  room  to  pray 
— knew  that  she  would  come  to  him  as  soon  as 
she  had  received  the  comfort  she  sought. 

"  What  can  have  happened  ?  "  he  murmured,  over 
and  over,  as  he  restlessly  paced  the  room.  He  had 
just  decided  to  go  to  Lois  Reeves  to  find  the  cause 
of  the  trouble  when  Joan  came  out  to  him.  There 
was  a  certain  look  of  peace  on  her  face  and  her 
eyes  were  not  so  set  and  staring  as  they  had  been 
when  she  entered  the  house. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  Rodney  demanded,  as  she 
perched,  in  her  favorite  place,  on  his  chair  arm. 

She  caught  his  hands  in  hers  and  held  them 


3o6       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

tightly  while  she  told  in  a  quivering  voice  of  the 
slights  and  insults  she  had  suffered  from  the  young 
Wards  that  day  and  of  the  influence  the  Ward 
children  had  on  the  sturdier,  stauncher  Tom  and 
Gertie. 

Rodney's  eyes  flashed  ominously  from  time  to 
time,  but  he  said  not  a  word  as  the  quivering  little 
voice  went  on,  adding  to  his  hatred  of  the  Major, 
for  Rodney  knew  where  to  place  the  injustice  of 
it  all. 

He  caught  himself  up  sharply,  as  Joan  said :  "  I 
took  all  their  slights  of  me  with  a  Christian  forti- 
tude of  which  I  am  sure  you  would  have  been 
proud." 

He  drew  her  close  to  him  in  loving  proof  of  his 
pride  of  her  in  all  things. 

She  faltered  an  instant,  then  continued,  and  her 
voice  was  firmer  now :  "  When  they  began  on  Mona, 
I  simply  boiled  over.  I  could  not  stand  them  call- 
ing her  a  '  greaser.'  She  looked  so  crushed,  poor 
little  wilted  flower.  I  didn't  see  anything  but  mad 
red  for  a  while,  they  were  so  mean  to  her,  and  at 
last  I  could  not  stand  it  any  longer,  so  I  simply 
sailed  in  on  them  just  as  school  was  called  after 
recess.  I  had  the  drawing  stick  in  my  hand  and 
I  lammed  them  all  over  the  head  with  it.  I  hit 
every  one  of  them,  Rodney.  Miss  Reeves  had  been 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       307 

out  in  the  yard  and  had  not  heard  much  of  the 
trouble,  so  could  not  understand  why  I  was  hitting 
them,  when  she  came  in  with  Flying  Eagle  and 
Marina. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  "  she  wailed.  "  Miss  Reeves  was  so 
hurt.  She  stood  me  in  the  corner  all  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon.  I  broke  the  drawing  stick  over  Bert's 
head,  you  know,  so  something  had  to  be  done  with 
me.  Miss  Reeves  was  very  sweet  about  it  all,  and 
I  forgave  her  right  at  the  time  for  not  punishing 
the  others — I  could  not  tell  her  about  the  trouble. 
Of  course,  Mona  tried  to,  but  Miss  Reeves  thought 
she  was  only  going  to  take  my  part,  so  she  would 
not  listen — she  asked  the  other  children  to  explain 
and  they  would  not,  so  she  just  looked  sad  and  told 
me  she  was  extremely  sorry  to  have  to  punish  me, 
but  she  must  keep  order  in  the  school  or  she  would 
not  be  doing  her  duty. 

"  I  told  her  I  understood  her  position  thoroughly 
and  would  forgive  her  any  indignity  she  heaped 
upon  me.  I  assured  her  she  would  understand  the 
whole  matter  after  I  talked  to  you.  Miss  Reeves 
did  not  say  a  word,  but  her  lips  quivered  and  my 
heart  almost  broke  because  I  had  hurt  her,  but  I 
could  not  tell  her  about  it  until  I  came  to  you, 
could  I,  Rodney?" 

"  No,  little  girl,"  he  answered,  understandingly. 


308       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Joan  sighed  and  snuggled  closer  to  him.  "  I  can- 
not understand  Mona,"  she  said,  wistfully.  "  When 
Miss  Reeves  told  her  to  keep  quiet,  Mona  got  up  and 
marched  out  of  the  schoolhouse  with  her  head  high 
like  some  beautiful  outraged  princess.  If  she  had 
only  stayed  where  I  could  have  looked  into  her  soul- 
ful eyes  it  would  have  helped  me,  but  Mona  is  so 
odd  at  times." 

"  I  will  go  now,  and  straighten  the  whole  matter 
out,"  Rodney  said,  briskly.  "  You  run  along  to 
the  Cave  of  Rest — take  Don  with  you,  I  fancy  Mona 
is  there  waiting  for  you." 

"  Oh,  Rodney !  You  have  lifted  such  a  burden 
from  my  heart;  I  am  sure  Mona  is  there,  but  I 
never  dreamed  of  it  until  you  spoke.  I  feared  I  had 
lost  her  forever,  and  it  would  almost  kill  me  to  lose 
Mona,  Rodney,  dear.  I  knew  you  would  straighten 
everything  out,"  she  whispered,  gratefully,  rubbing 
her  cheek  against  his. 

The  Major  never  forgot  the  interview  he  had 
with  Rodney.  Rodney's  first  call  was  upon  the 
Major,  with  the  letter  the  Major  had  written  Judge 
Wheaton,  and  which  the  Judge  had  sent  to  Rodney 
to  show  him  the  Major's  true  character,  if  such  a 
warped  nature  could  possess  a  character  of  any  kind. 

When  shown  his  own  letter,  the  Major  cowered 
low  in  his  chair,  muttering  an  apology  which  made 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       309 

Rodney's  lips  curl  contemptuously.  "  All's  fair  in 
love  or  war,  my  boy,"  the  Major  whimpered. 
"  When  I  wrote  that  letter,  and  the  devil  alone 
knows  how  you  got  hold  of  it,  I  thought  if  I  could 
find  out  anything  against  the  child  I  might  cause 
a  separation  between  you  and  your  aunt.  I  knew 
you  would  stick  to  the  child  even  then,  and  you 
seem  more  loony  over  her  than  ever  now.  I  thought 
she  might  be  yours  until  I  wrote  the  letter,  and 
that  if  I  could  prove  it  and  cause  the  separation  be- 
tween you  and  your  aunt,  your  aunt  would  nat- 
urally turn  to  me.  She  seemed  to  be  rather  taken 
with  me  then.  Curse  it  all,  I  can't  see  what  has 
come  over  her  lately." 

"  You  do  not  deserve  the  reason,"  Rodney  said, 
sharply,  "  but  the  reason  lies  in  the  fact  that  my 
aunt  saw  you  in  the  Indian  powwow — you  remem- 
ber the  night,  you  made  enough  out  of  your  devil  of 
a  horse  that  day  to  remember  the  date  for  some 
time." 

From  the  Major's  lips  there  poured  forth  a 
string  of  sulphurous  oaths  that  surprised  even  Rod- 
ney, knowing  the  man  as  he  thought  he  knew  him. 

"  Excitement  often  brings  on  apoplexy,"  Rodney 
said,  in  grim  humor,  as  he  left  the  Major's  profane 
presence. 

The  Major  watched  Rodney  cross  the  lawn  to 


3io       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  cottages  where  dwelt  the  Wards  and  Peysons,  a 
malevolent  light  in  his  beady  eyes.  Then  he  cursed 
violently,  profanely  as  he  started  across  the  desert 
to  the  station.  At  the  station  he  met  a  tall,  slender 
youth  in  conventional  American  garb — a  youth  with 
the  flashing  eyes  of  the  untamed  savage. 

The  Major  cursed  anew,  as  he  drew  near  the 
youth,  but  his  voice,  when  he  addressed  the  arrogant 
lad,  was  oily,  flattering,  soothing.  "  The  time  is 
not  ripe,  Chawa,  my  lad,"  he  said,  unctuously.  "  I 
made  a  mistake  in  allowing  you  to  come  to-day. 
She  is  too  young  yet,  Chawa." 

The  half-breed  faced  the  Major,  his  flashing 
eyes  burning  with  the  savage  desire  of  his  restless, 
untamed  spirit. 

Those  flashing  eyes  made  the  Major  feel  very 
uncomfortable.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  straight, 
haughty  shoulders. 

Chawa  flung  him  off  impatiently. 

"  You  must  return  quickly,"  the  Major  whined. 
"  I  tell  you,  my  boy,  I  should  not  have  allowed  you 
to  come  so  soon.  You  are  young,  I  have  done  much 
for  you,  am  willing  to  do  more,  if  you  will  wait  in 
patience  only  two  short  years,  I  swear  by  all  the 
Great  Spirits  of  your  race,  for  you  are  all  Indian, 
my  Chawa,  that  I  will  be  true  to  you  and  give  you 
your  heart's  desire.  Trust  me,  Chawa  lad,  and 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       311 

humor  an  old  man's  whim.  In  two  years  that  fool 
guardian  of  hers  will  be  entirely  well.  Curse  him, 
he  grows  stronger  every  day.  In  two  years  you 
will  be  completely  Americanized — in  appearance," 
he  chuckled.  "  In  two  years  the  man  will  love  her 
even  better  than  he  does  now,  your  victory  over  him 
will  be  more  sweet,  and — and,  you  are  shrewd, 
Chawa,  my  revenge  will  be  more  complete,  if  we 
wait  two  years." 

"  So ! "  Chawa's  lips  curled  back  from  his  per- 
fect teeth.  "  You  want  more  revenge  on  the  white- 
faced  man  who  loves  her  in  his  puny  way,  do  you? 
What  is  his  love  to  the  love  that  burns  in  the  heart 
of  Chawa?  What  is  your  desire  for  revenge  com- 
pared to  the  desire  that  throbs  through  the  veins  of 
Chawa  ?  Why  should  I,  Chawa,  wait  two  years  that 
he,  the  pale-faced  weakling,  may  love  her  more? — I 
care  not  how  much  he  loves  her — I  care  only  that 
she  belongs  to  me. 

"  Why  should  I  wait  two  years  for  you  to  treas- 
ure revenge  in  your  heart — why  should  I  ?  Answer, 
and  do  not  forget  that  the  blood  of  the  great  Fight- 
ing Wolf  flows  in  the  blood  of  Chawa — the  half- 
breed."  He  drew  himself  up  proudly. 

The  Major  came  close  to  the  half-breed  and 
whispered  something  into  his  ear. 

The  hot  blood  flooded  up  under  the  dark  cheeks, 


312       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

but  the  flashing  eyes  that  burned  in  the  perfectly 
chiseled  face  were  not  lowered,  their  untamable 
light  mocked  the  Major,  yet  the  Major  knew  his 
cause  was  won,  by  the  twitching  of  the  dark  lips. 

"  So !  "  Chawa  said,  when  the  Major  had  finished 
and  turned  away  with  a  triumphant  light  in  his 
beady  eyes. 

"  You  will  go  back  on  the  midnight  train?  "  the 
Major  asked,  after  a  long  silence,  during  which  the 
half-breed  restlessly  paced  the  station  platform. 

"  No,"  Chawa  returned,  proudly.  "  I  shall  see 
the  witch-child  before  I  sleep.  Child  she  may  be, 
too  young  for  Chawa  now  she  may  be,  but  Chawa's 
fit  mate,  and  Chawa  shall  see  her  before  he  sleeps. 
Come,  old  man,  let  us  hasten  to  your  den  of  iniquity. 
When  I  leave,  I  shall  give  you  my  answer  as  to 
the  length  of  time  I  shall  wait  for  my  mate.  I, 
Chawa,  shall  watch  and  see  if  you  have  told  Chawa 
the  truth." 

So  unknown  to  all  but  the  Major,  Chawa  spent 
three  weeks  in  the  little  village — weeks  of  torture 
for  the  Major,  whose  hatred  of  Rodney  grew  in 
leaps  and  bounds. 

At  the  end  of  the  three  weeks,  Chawa  returned 
to  the  Eastern  city  to  add  to  the  cloak  of  civiliza- 
tion that  wrapped  itself  in  deceiving  folds  about  his 
savage  spirit. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       313 

When  Rodney  returned  from  the  Wards'  and 
Peysons'  the  night  of  his  exposure  of  the  Major,  he 
found  Joan,  curled  upon  the  porch  cot,  sobbing  as 
if  her  heart  would  break.  Mona  was  neither  at  the 
Cave  of  Rest  nor  at  any  other  place  known  to  Joan. 

"  She's  gone  off  to  die  of  a  broken  heart,  I  know 
she  has,"  Joan  wailed  on  Rodney's  shirt  front,  in 
entire  forgetfulness  of  her  promise  to  Prudence  to 
refrain  from  that  luxury. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense ! "  Prudence  sniffed,  when 
she  had  drawn  from  Rodney  as  much  of  the  tale 
as  he  cared  for  her  to  know.  "  I  am  sure  I  don't 
see,  Joan,  why  you  want  to  stir  up  another  Indian 
mess  for,  anyway,"  Prudence  added,  tartly. 

"  There  is  no  mess,  Aunt  Prudence,"  Rodney  re- 
turned stiffly,  drawing  Joan  closer  to  him.  "  Joan 
simply  took  her  friend's  part  as  one  of  her  nature 
was  bound  to  take  it  and " 

"  Pshaw !  "  interrupted  Prudence.  "  When  I  was 
growing  up,  there  was  not  so  much  talk  about  na- 
ture and  temperament.  Children  were  not  excused 
for  everything  they  did,  as  you  excuse  and  pamper 
Joan.  Her  nature — pouff!  If  she  ever  amounts 
to  shucks  it  will  be  a  wonder,"  and  Prudence 
flounced  out  of  the  room. 

"  Don't  mind  her,  little  girl,"  Rodney  comforted. 
"  She  feels  badly  because  the  Major  is  such  a  dis- 


314       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

appointment  to  her."  Rodney  unconsciously  hit 
upon  the  head  the  nail  of  truth.  The  Major  had 
been  the  first  swain  to  approach  her  little  garden  of 
midddle-age  romance  and  it  hurt  Prudence  to  learn 
of  the  Major's  imperfections.  She  did  not  trust 
him,  herself — had  secretly  feared  him  since  the  night 
of  the  Indian  powwow — still  she  looked  at  him 
through  eyes  yet  filmy  with  the  glamor  of  romance. 

"  I  don't  mind  Aunt  Prudence  any  more — she 
is  so  good  at  heart.  I  know  it's  hard  on  her  to  find 
the  Major  out.  I  think  I  should  die  if  I  ever  found 
any  secret  evil  in  Mona.  Aunt  Prudence  is  so  good 
to  me,  I  love  her  no  matter  how  cross  she  seems  at 
times.  I  am  a  great  trial  to  her,  I  know  I  am,  Rod- 
ney," Joan  whispered,  softly. 

After  a  time  the  child  fell  asleep,  and  Rodney  sat 
there,  holding  her  in  his  arms  until  all  the  desert 
world  was  enveloped  in  the  mystic  glow  of  a  yellow 
autumn  moon. 

Mona  came  to  school  the  following  morning,  a 
triumphant  light  in  her  great  eyes.  Joan  embraced 
her  rapturously,  whispering  loving  greetings  in  her 
ears.  Lois  Reeves  caught  the  half -savage  gleam  of 
triumph  in  the  little  half-breed's  eyes  and  wondered 
at  it.  It  was  the  first  savage  look  she  had  ever 
seen  in  Mona's  eyes. 

Very  sorry  was  Lois  Reeves  over  her  punish- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       315 

ment  of  Joan  the  previous  afternoon.  She  re- 
gretted, too,  that  she  had  refused  to  allow  Mona 
to  speak.  From  Rodney  she  had  heard  the  true 
story  of  the  Major's  perfidity,  had  even  read  the 
Major's  letter  to  Judge  Wheaton. 

With  an  arm  about  each  of  the  two  girls,  Lois 
told  them  of  her  regret  over  the  unkindness  of  the 
four  children.  Joan  responded  impulsively,  loving 
as  ever.  Mona  was  quieter,  more  reserved,  yet  her 
eyes  were  very  tender  and  soft  as  they  met  her  be- 
loved teacher's.  Mona  held  nothing  against  Miss 
Reeves.  Lois  knew  the  little  half-breed  forgave 
her,  yet  she  was  puzzled  and  troubled  by  that  half- 
barbaric  gleam  in  the  great  gray  eyes  until  the  Ward 
and  Peyson  children  arrived. 

There  was  a  livid  wyelt  on  the  cheeks  of  each  of 
the  four  children  and  in  their  eyes  for  many  days 
there  lingered  a  shadow  of  fear — a  fear  of  the 
intangible — a  fear  of  that  unknown  something  that 
had  awakened  each  of  them  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  by  a  stinging  lash  on  the  face  with  a  keen 
whip. 

Very  subdued  and  very  respectful  were  they  to 
Mona  and  Joan  all  the  rest  of  the  term,  but  Joan 
never  renewed  her  former  good-fellowship  with 
them.  She  treated  them  with  an  unvarying  kind- 
ness and  courtesy,  but  even  at  that  age  Joan  had  the 


316       TO  AN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

power  of  erecting  an  invisible,  impassable  wall  be- 
tween her  and  those  with  whom  she  did  not  choose 
to  become  intimate.  Mona  ignored  the  four  white 
children.  To  her  it  was  as  if  they  did  not  exist,  had 
never  existed. 

Perhaps  Lois  Reeves  was  the  only  one  in  the  vil- 
lage who  ever  guessed  the  real  cause  of  the  mys- 
terious welts  that  remained  on  the  faces  of  the  four 
children  a  number  of  days. 

Lois  Reeves  intuitively  knew  that  at  some  time 
during  the  hours  the  village  lay  asleep,  there  had 
been  a  barbaric  payment  of  the  wrong  done  the 
chum  of  the  little  half-breed. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  desert  lay  serene  and  beautiful  under  a 
rose-tinted  glow  in  the  eastern  sky.  White 
clouds  hung,  poised  like  beautiful  swans,  in 
the  deep  blue  of  the  western  heavens. 

Just  to  breathe  was  a  delight  that  beautiful  May 
morning,  the  air  was  so  sweet  with  the  breath  of  a 
desert  spring.  The  night  before,  a  last  April  shower 
had  washed  clean  all  the  desert  world. 

The  air  vibrated  with  a  jubilant  melody  of  hope. 
Nature  seemed  gracious — generous — a-quiver  with 
joy,  and  the  scanty  desert  vegetation  seemed  to 
have  been  touched  by  a  magic  wand,  so  beautiful 
was  it  and  so  odorous,  with  that  purely  desert  odor 
that  invigorates  and  stimulates. 

In  tune  to  the  desert  symphony  of  color  and  song, 
and  up  the  clean,  sandy  road  toward  the  trail  that 
led  past  the  Indian  burying  ground — past  the  huge 
pepper  tree  under  which  Arth's  white  headstone 
glistened  under  the  rose-tinted  sky — towards  the 
well-worn  path  that  led  to  the  Cave  of  Rest,  went 
Joan  that  spring  morning. 

It  was  Joan's  fifteenth  birthday,  and  there  was  a 
317 


318       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

divine,  mystic  light  in  the  eyes,  azure  as  the  sky 
above  to  which  their  clear  glance  was  uplifted. 
Her  hair  was  gold-tinted,  caressed  as  it  was  by  the 
shooting  rays  of  the  morning  sun.  The  mysterious 
half-light  of  the  coming  day  touched  the  girl's  face 
into  an  ethereal,  Madonna-like  beauty.  Strong  and 
brave  and  kind  was  Joan's  face,  with  its  signals  of 
pride  set  about  the  mouth,  and  in  the  very  poise  of 
her  well-carried  head. 

She  walked  with  a  certain  boyish  stride,  as  Rosa- 
lind might  have  walked  in  Arden. 

When  she  reached  the  twin  palms  she  turned  and 
looked  down  on  the  village  revealed  by  the  mystic 
morning  glow. 

"  Oh,  this  is  good !  "  She  drew  in  deep  breaths 
of  the  spring-scented  air.  "  Oh,  it's  good,  good  to 
be  alive !  "  Just  to  breathe  seemed  an  exquisite  joy 
to  her  as  she  flung  herself  down  on  the  flat  rock 
at  the  base  of  the  twin  palms. 

The  gleaming  desert  sand  was  fanned  by  per- 
fume-laden zephyrs;  the  call  of  a  mocking  bird 
vibrated  on  the  still  morning  air. 

Joan's  eyes  kindled  with  delight  as  she  listened 
an  instant,  then  turned  and  tried  to  count  the  tent- 
houses  dotted  all  about  on  the  desert  from  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  village  to  the  many-hued  mountains 
piercing  the  sky. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       319 

She  thrilled  with  joy,  as  she  leaned  eagerly  for- 
ward, her  eyes  on  the  door  of  Rodney's  cottage. 
The  door  opened,  and  Rodney  himself  came  out 
on  the  porch  and  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
as  he  scanned  the  sandy  road  for  a  glimpse  of 
her. 

Her  lips  parted  in  a  little  half -smile  of  sheer  de- 
light, as  he  saw  her,  perched  up  there  on  the  rock — 
a  blur  of  white  against  the  green  of  the  palms — 
and  waved  his  handkerchief  at  her.  She  laughed 
aloud,  and  the  rippling  music  of  it  was  as  sweet  as 
the  call  of  the  mocking  bird,  as  the  man  started  up 
the  trail  toward  her,  walking  with  the  long  swing- 
ing strides  of  a  man  in  almost  perfect  health. 

Her  heart  gave  a  glad,  exultant  throb,  then  the 
hot  color  flooded  her  face  up  to  her  hair  roots  until 
she  became  so  conscious  of  it  that  she  put  her  hand 
up  as  though  to  shade  her  eyes  from  the  light. 

When  she  looked  up  again  at  the  rugged  mountain 
peaks,  on  the  ragged  spur  of  one  of  the  peaks,  out- 
lined against  the  rose-hued  sky,  was  the  grim  head 
of  a  bygone  Indian  chief. 

"Oh,  oh!"  she  breathed,  ecstatically,  "we  saw 
that  the  first  morning  we  were  here." 

The  head  of  the  Indian  chief  faded  from  the  sky, 
and  a  beautiful  pearly  cloud  drifted  across  the 
rugged  peak. 


320       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

To  Joan  it  seemed  as  if  her  future  was  folded  and 
hidden  in  the  beautiful  mist. 

A  marvelous  change  had  taken  place  in  Rainbow 
Springs  since  Joan  witnessed  with  Rodney  the  first 
mirage  of  the  head  of  the  Indian  chief. 

Two  years  before  Joan's  fifteenth  birthday  morn- 
ing, surveyors  had  come  across  from  the  desert 
station.  For  days  they  had  stretched  their  tape 
over  the  glittering  sand,  and  jotted  down  figures 
in  their  leather-backed  note-books. 

When  they  had  gone,  a  horde  of  workmen  came 
and  for  many  days  the  sound  of  hammer  and  saw 
rang  and  hissed  with  the  song  of  progress,  while 
as  if  by  magic  scores  of  tent-houses  sprang  up  like 
leopard  spots  on  the  desert's  welcoming  heart.  The 
tents  were  flanked  about  a  huge  rambling  building, 
its  myriad  of  windows  giving  it  a  pavilion-like  air. 

This  building,  known  as  the  Hall  of  Hope,  stood 
on  the  spot  where  once  had  stood  Welch's  modest 
hostelry  and  the  unpainted  cottages.  The  govern- 
ment schoolhouse  and  the  little  drab-colored  church 
were  the  only  buildings  in  the  entire  northern  por- 
tion of  the  village  that  had  been  there  when  Joan 
and  Mona  made  their  first  trip  to  the  Cave  of  Rest. 

The  hermit  doctor  was  the  magician  back  of  the 
transformation,  and  every  one  reverenced  him  as  a 
benefactor. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       321 

The  Hall  of  Hope  was  a  splendid  building,  with 
a  vast  dining-room,  and  clean,  white-tiled  kitchens* 
snug  offices  and  consulting-rooms  for  the  doctor, 
and  an  immense  room — the  hall — for  the  tent- 
dwellers.  The  hall  abounded  with  couches  and  easy 
chairs  circled  about  a  grand  piano. 

Scattered  about  on  low  reading-tables  were  the 
latest  magazines  of  helpful  character,  and  numbers 
of  the  late  books  of  hopeful,  cheerful  nature.  In 
the  corner  of  the  hall  opposite  the  piano  was  a 
phonograph  of  inviting  appearance,  and  on  shelves 
back  of  it  were  any  number  of  records. 

The  hall  was  the  Mecca  of  joy  to  the  many  young 
men  who  came  flocking  to  this  model  community 
where  the  maximum  of  all  they  needed  was  given 
them  for  a  minimum  of  money. 

The  cost  to  the  tubercular  patients  was  so  small 
in  fact  that  even  the  poorest  could  come  here 
and  retain  their  gift  of  pride.  The  price  there  was 
to  all  the  same,  likewise  the  treatment  accorded 
them  was  a  replica  of  the  motto  over  the  entrance 
door,  "  Here  all  men  are  equal." 

And  the  man  who  had,  by  means  of  his  unlimited 
wealth,  achieved  all  this,  was  rejuvenated.  Not 
since  his  youth  had  he  known  the  kind  of  sleep  he 
now  enjoyed.  Not  a  day  passed  but  he  rejoiced 
in  the  work  that  rescued  so  many  high-minded 


322       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

youthful  men  from  the  clutches  of  their  grim 
disease,  and  restored  them  to  lives  of  usefulness. 
Surely  this  was  a  work  worthy  of  his  highest 
powers.  The  new  cure  was  a  wonder,  and  in  his 
skilled  hands  a  marvel  to  the  outer  world  of  science 
that  looked  on  his  great  work  and  approved. 

The  old  minister  was  very  happy  these  days.  He 
held  daily  readings  and  talks  at  the  Hall  of  Hope. 
There  the  blessedness  as  well  as  the  necessity  of  the 
altruistic  life  became  intelligible  by  his  simple  pre- 
sentation of  the  truth,  and  many  a  conversion 
followed.  He  taught  the  sick  how  to  live  as  well 
as  how  to  die,  for  some  of  them  did  die — those  who 
came  too  late. 

The  old  minister,  Joan,  and  Mona  had  also 
achieved  a  wonderful  garden  of  flowers  and  long 
sweeping  plots  of  vegetables.  Truly  it  could  be 
said:  the  desert  oasis  was  a  full-blossomed  rose, 
fragrant  and  fair  to  look  upon. 

The  Major's  hotel  was  deserted  these  days.  He 
lived  alone,  surly  and  vindictive,  with  his  super- 
annuated Cuban  negro  cook. 

The  doctor  had  tried  to  purchase  the  Major's 
interest  in  the  village,  but  the  Major  refused  scorn- 
fully and  pompously. 

As  Rodney  climbed  the  trail  to  Joan,  his  heart 
beat  with  joy. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       323 

His  love  for  Joan  had  grown  apace  with  the 
years;  he  made  no  attempt  to  deceive  himself.  He 
loved  her  as  a  child,  and  he  loved  her  as  the  one 
man  loves  the  one  woman. 

He  knew  that  Joan  loved  him  with  a  love  as  great 
as  his  own,  but  he  kept  his  man-love  hidden  far 
out  of  sight,  believing  that  Joan  loved  him  only  as 
a  child  loves. 

Some  day  he  would  awaken  the  woman-love  that 
lay  hidden  under  the  child-love — that  some  day 
would  be  when  there  were  five  more  years  added  to 
the  fifteen. 

"  You  missed  the  head  of  the  Indian  chief,  and 
it  was  just  like  it  was  the  first  morning  we  were 
here,"  was  Joan's  greeting,  as  she  made  room  for 
him  on  the  flat  rock  beside  her. 

Rodney  fanned  his  hot  face  with  his  hat,  and 
mopped  the  moisture  from  his  forehead. 

"  You  should  not  have  climbed  up  here  so  fast," 
Joan  said,  reproachfully,  her  eyes  soft  with  the 
maternal  glow  that  shines  in  the  eyes  of  every  true 
woman. 

Sometimes,  as  now,  she  seemed  years  older  than 
Rodney. 

Rodney  laughed. 

"  But  we  are  all  to  see  the  wonderful  Cave  of 
Rest  to-day,  and  I  wanted  to  see  it  first.  Think 


324       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

how  long  I  have  existed  without  seeing  that  en- 
chanted spot.  Shall  we  move  on?" 

"  Not  without  Mona.  I  promised  her  I  would 
wait  for  her,  and  she  may  .not  be  here  for  an  hour," 
Joan  returned,  softly,  a  wistful  light  in  her  eyes. 
She  was  sorry  she  had  promised  Mona  to  wait  for 
her,  yet  the  Cave  of  Rest  was  Mona's  first,  and 
Joan  was  loyal. 

"  I'll  wait,"  Rodney  said,  with  a  low  laugh.  "  It 
is  good  to  see  you  once  in  a  while  without  your 
shadow  or  those  idolizing  youths  of  the  doctor's 
flocking  eternally  about  you.  Humph !  Added  an- 
other inch  or  so  to  the  length  of  your  dress,  I  see. 
You  grow  up  mighty  fast,  young  lady." 

Joan  touched  the  soft  folds  of  the  handsome  skirt 
with  caressing  fingers. 

"  Yes,  it  is  longer,"  she  said,  softly.  "  Wasn't 
Aunt  Prudence  a  dear  to  make  this  dress  for  my 
birthday?" 

"  Aunt  Prue  is  not  so  severe  as  she  once  was." 
Rodney  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hat,  and  through 
half -closed  lips  watched  the  expressive  face  of  the 
girl. 

"  Aunt  Prudence  is  a  dear,  Rodney  White." 

"  Well,  she  broke  you  of  crying  on  my  shirt 
front,  and  I'll  never  forgive  her  for  that,"  he  re- 
torted, eying  his  shirt  front  pensively.  "  Besides, 


SOME   DAY    HE   WOULD   AWAKEN     THE     WOMAN-LOVE    THAT    LAY    HIDDEN 
UNDER   THE    CHILD-LOVE. — Page  323. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       325 

I  heard  her  telling  you  last  night  that  you  were  too 
old  to  kiss  me  any  more,  I  am  indignant  at  her. 
There  is  a  limit  to  even  my  forbearance." 

Joan's  clear  laugh  rang  out  like  rippling  water. 

"  What  a  comfort  I  took  in  crying  on  you !  "  She 
eyed  him  now,  half  wistfully.  "  I  am  too  old  for 
so  many  things,"  she  said,  with  a  trace  of  sadness 
in  her  low  voice. 

Rodney  pulled  a  wavy  lock  of  his  heavy  hair  down 
on  his  forehead,  and  peered  up  at  it  critically. 

"  Gray — gray,"  he  murmured,  in  mock  sorrow. 
"  Joan  is  getting  too  old  for  so  many  things,  and 
I  am  decrepit  with  age." 

He  sighed,  and  shook  his  head  mournfully. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  old  man,"  Joan  mocked, 
her  eyes  dancing.  "  There  is  Chawa,"  she  cried 
suddenly.  "  See !  That  is  he,  dashing  across  the 
desert  towards  the  station. 

In  an  instant  Rodney's  laughing  manner  was 
gone.  He  seemed  suddenly  and  truly  to  cross  the 
border  line  between  maturity  and  old  age. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  here,  Joan  ?  " 

"  Over  a  week,  and  isn't  he  fine  and  romantic- 
looking  in  his  American  clothes.  He  is  so  tall  and 
straight  and  beautiful.  He  looks  like  some  statue 
of  the  bronze  Mercury." 

"  I  hate  him,"  Rodney  snarled,  savagely. 


326       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

The  very  thought  of  Chawa  always  sent  a  shiver 
of  fear  through  him — fear  not  for  himself,  but  a 
fear  that  seemed  a  shivering  menace  of  some  evil 
to  come  through  Chawa  to  Joan.  He  was  sud- 
denly extremely  sorry  that  he  had  not  taken  Joan 
East  that  spring.  He  was  strong  enough,  but  both 
he  and  the  child  loved  the  desert  so  that  he  hated 
to  leave  it  or  take  her  from  it.  She  was  so  happy 
there. 

"Why,  Rodney  White!"  Joan's  voice  dispelled 
his  sudden  reverie.  "  There  is  no  room  for  hate  on 
a  day  like  this.  Love  is  the  only  thing  that  owns 
to-day,  Rodney  dear." 

Rodney's  face  softened.  Chawa  was  now  only 
a  black  dot  dancing  up  and  down  in  the  distance. 

"  Mona  told  me  last  night  that  he  stays  at  the 
Major's.  Isn't  that  queer?" 

A  quick  flash  of  understanding  came  into 
Rodney's  eyes. 

"  He  stays  at  the  Major's,  eh  ? "  His  voice 
sounded  indifferent,  but  every  nerve  was  a-quiver 
with  interest — and  added  fear. 

"  Yes,  Mona  says  he  does.  She  asked  him  why. 
He  told  her  it  was  for  the  same  reason  that  she 
lives  with  Miss  Reeves  and  Aunt  Martha — because 
he  is  too  civilized  to  stay  with  the  Indians." 

Rodney  gave  a  short  laugh.    He  could  almost  see 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       327 

the  flashing  savage  light  in  Chawa's  black  eyes, 
and  he  knew  it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  civilization 
or  any  of  its  attributes  that  Chawa  was  hobnobbing 
with  the  Major. 

"  Mona  is  coming !  "  Joan  gave  a  quick,  happy 
cry,  and  dashed  down  the  trail  to  meet  her  friend. 

Rodney  scowled  as  he  watched  the  two  girls  come 
up  the  trail  arm  in  arm.  Mona  had  seventeen  years 
of  unsullied  maidenhood  to  her  credit.  The  soul 
of  a  brave,  true-hearted  woman  looked  out  through 
her  dark,  mystic  eyes,  but  Rodney  could  not  forget 
that  the  blood  of  the  great  Fighting  Wolf  flowed 
through  her  veins — could  not  forget  that  she  was 
the  sister  of  Chawa. 

When  the  two  stood  before  him  he  still  scowled, 
even  though  Mona  standing  there  in  the  sunlight 
looked  like  an  exquisite  bit  of  tinted  marble 
sculptured  into  perfectness  by  the  hand  of  God. 
And  he  knew  that  Mona  was  as  pure  and  true- 
hearted  as  the  girl  he  loved  with  every  fiber  of 
his  being. 

"Where  is  Don?"  Joan  demanded,  suddenly,  as 
they  made  their  way  up  the  rest  of  the  trail  that 
lay  between  the  twin  palms  and  the  Cave  of  Rest — 
a  trail  smoothed  and  hardened  by  the  daily  treading 
of  it,  by  the  two  girls. 

"  Don  is  with  Dad,"  Mona  answered,  her  gray 


328       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

eyes  glowing  with  love,  as  they  met  Joan's  laugh- 
ing blue  ones. 

"  I'll  take  his  place  at  your  feet,  while  you  tell 
me  a  fairy  story,"  Rodney  offered,  with  a  laugh  and 
a  mocking  low  bow.  Rodney  was  himself  again — 
he  again  trusted  Mona  the  half-breed. 

"  We  shall  see  about  it,"  Joan  flung  back,  as  she 
disappeared  into  the  coolness  of  the  cave. 

An  instant  later  she  emerged  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Some  one  has  been  here  and  spoiled  it  all,"  she 
panted.  Her  eyes  were  almost  black  with  anger. 
Rodney  smiled.  He  had  secretly  longed  for  more 
than  a  year  to  see  the  old  flare  of  anger  set  its 
signals  at  the  corner  of  that  sensitive  mouth. 

Mona's  eyes  grew  grave,  serious,  inscrutable. 
She  understood  now,  Chawa's  old  time  barbaric 
laugh  of  triumph,  as  he  darted  past  her  on  his  pony, 
his  supple  body  bent  low,  in  true  Indian  fashion. 

Under  his  thin  veneer  of  civilization,  Chawa  was 
the  same  untamed  reincarnation  of  the  great  Fight- 
ing Wolf. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Rodney  demanded. 

Joan  barred  the  entrance  to  the  cave. 

"  Some  one  has  been  here  and  spoiled  all  our 
surprise  for  you,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  thought  no  one 
ever  came  here  but  Mona  and  I,  and — and  we  spent 
hours  yesterday  decorating  the  inside  of  the  cave 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       329 

with  palm  leaves.  We  had  Chinese  lanterns  all 
around  the  walls — I  was  going  to  light  them  just 
now,  and  they  are  gone — gone !  "  Her  voice  rose 
tragically.  "  Oh,  oh,"  she  wailed.  "  I  am  so 
miserable,  I  shall  have  to  cry — even  the  rugs  and — 
and  everything  else  are  all  gone.  Oh,  oh,  I  shall 
surely  cry,  and  it  is  awful  to  cry  on  one's  fifteenth 
birthday." 

"  My  shirt  front  is  at  your  service,  fair  maiden," 
Rodney  said,  whimsically.  "  Come,  use  it  for  old 
time's  sake.  I  suggest,  however,  that  we  go  inside 
your  cave.  It  is  becoming  rather  warm  out  here 
for  a  sick  man." 

Joan  smiled  at  him  through  her  tears.  "  Poor 
sick  man ! "  she  mocked.  "  I  never  let  myself 
believe  you  were  sick,  Rodney.  I  thought  health  for 
you  every  hour  in  the  day.  Not  just  as  Miss 
Warren  used  to  teach  we  should  believe  health, 
because  I  cannot  believe  just  as  she  did.  But  I  do 
believe,  '  As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart  so  he  is.' 
And  I  do  believe  thinking  health  for  you  helped." 
She  was  serious  now.  The  threatened  April  shower 
had  given  place  to  a  bright  May  face.  "  We'll  make 
the  best  of  our  dismantled  cave,"  she  flashed,  sud- 
denly. "  There  are  plenty  more  lanterns  at  the 
house.  You  are  so  extravagant,  Rodney  White. 
Mona  and  I  will  go  down  and  bring  some  things 


330       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

up  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd.  We  shall  have  to 
imagine  the  decorations,  but  we  can  do  that.  Come 
on,  Mona." 

Rodney's  face  fell  comically.  "  I  fear  to  stay 
alone — wild  beasts  might  come  and  devour  me — 
some  of  the  horde  of  giants  you  have  conjured  up 
here  might  steal  me  away  while  alone  in  my  help- 
lessness," he  said,  whimsically. 

Joan  laughed,  and  started  down  the  trail. 

Mona  came  close  to  Rodney.  Her  eyes  were 
grave  and  troubled  as  they  searched  his  suddenly- 
sobered  face. 

"  You  watch  Joan,"  she  whispered.  "  Chawa  is 
here.  He  is  very  fierce — fiercer  than  he  was  when 
I  warned  you  before.  He  loves  Joan,  but  not  as 
you  love  her.  His  love  is  the  love  of  the  tiger  for 
its  mate.  Your  love  is  as  the  love  of  an  angel, 
true  and  gentle.  Chawa  is  my  brother — the  same 
blood  flows  in  our  veins,  but,"  she  reached  her 
arms  skyward.  "  I  once  swore  eternal  love  to  my 
white  friend.  I  love  her,  love  her  with  the  strong 
love  of  my  Indian  mother  and  with  the  tender  love 
of  my  white  father. 

"  I  love  her  with  every  throb  of  my  heart.  The 
nights  are  sweet  because  she  has  been  beside  me 
through  the  day.  The  days  are  like  glimpses  of 
the  heaven  Dad  tells  about,  because  the  days  are 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       331 

brightened  by  her  smiles.  I  love  our  Joan  with 
every  fiber  of  my  being — for  her  I  would  suffer 
any  torture — for  her  I  would  give  my  life.  You 
cannot  understand  how  one  with  the  blood  of  the 
Indian  in  them  loves.  I  can  understand  Chawa, 
although  Chawa  is  more  of  the  red  race  than  am  I. 
Chawa  is  our  great  chief,  Fighting  Wolf,  born 
again,  so  says  the  Chief  Pedro. 

"  The  white  blood  of  our  white  father  is  sub- 
merged in  the  stronger  current  of  the  centuries  of 
untamed  blood  that  flows  through  Chawa's  veins. 
Chawa  wears  the  raiment  of  the  white  race,  but 
Chawa  is  not  of  them.  There  is  not  a  full-blooded 
Indian  on  the  Reservation  as  untamed  and  savage 
as  is  Chawa.  You  watch  Joan.  I  watch  Chawa. 

"  The  Major  is  planning  with  Chawa  to  steal 
Joan.  He  would  give  Joan  to  Chawa — would  mate 
the  cactus  with  the  rose.  It  shall  not  be.  I,  Mona, 
swear  it  by  the  God  of  my  father,  by  the  Great 
Spirits  of  my  mother's  people." 

Like  a  flash  she  was  gone.  Rodney  saw  that  she 
overtook  Joan  at  the  twin  palms,  and  hand  in  hand 
they  sped  down  the  trail  together,  leaving  him  alone 
with  a  consuming  fear  for  Joan. 

It  seemed  that  he  was  afire  with  hate  of  the  Major 
and  Chawa.  At  that  moment  he  knew  no  reason; 
for  a  time  he  paced  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 


332       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

cave,  unmindful  of  the  heat,  like  a  man  suddenly 
bereft  of  reason.  Calmness  came  with  a  sudden 
determination  to  seek  Pedro  on  the  morrow  and  see 
if  he  could  again  have  Chawa  sent  away  from  the 
Reservation.  If  that  plan  failed  he  would  take 
Joan  East. 

Long  since  had  there  ceased  to  be  even  a  pre- 
tense of  friendship  between  the  oily  Major  and 
Rodney. 

Prudence  and  Welch  were  planning  to  be  married 
in  the  Fall,  and  were  to  live  in  Orion,  in  the  square 
white  house  set  back  from  the  street,  with  a  maple- 
bordered  path  running  like  a  silver  thread  from  the 
street  to  the  door  when  the  earth  was  snow  and 
ice-bound  as  it  was  the  night  Joan  came  to  the 
square  white  house  in  answer  to  the  call  of  the 
violin. 

Rodney  threw  himself  down  at  last  under  the 
shade  of  the  overhanging  rocks  half  concealing  the 
entrance  to  the  cave.  As  he  sat  there  eagerly  await- 
ing the  return  of  Joan,  a  shadow  fell  before  him. 

He  looked  up  quickly,  and  for  a  second  met  the 
flashing,  mockingly  triumphant,  savage  eyes  of 
Chawa. 

"  You  devil !  "  Rodney  snarled. 

"  Ah !  "  Chawa's  red  lips  curled  back  from  his 
firm,  even  teeth.  "  Devil  I  may  be,  but  I  shall  win 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       333 

from  you  the  maiden  of  laughing  eyes  and  sun-kissed 
hair.  She  shall  be  the  mate  of  Chawa.  I,  Chawa, 
swear  it.  Bah!  You  watch  Joan.  Mona  watch 
Chawa.  So !  "  A  triumphant  leer  distorted  the 
handsome  savage  face,  then  the  half-breed  was 
gone. 

Rodney  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  searching  the 
trail  both  above  and  below  the  cave,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  savage.  He  began  to  wonder  if  his 
eyes  and  his  mind  had  been  playing  tricks  on  him. 
Hadn't  he  and  Joan  seen  Chawa  disappear  over 
the  desert  toward  the  station  just  a  short  hour  ago. 
How  could  Chawa  be  near  the  Cave  of  Rest?  But 
the  day  was  spoiled  for  him,  nevertheless. 

But  no  one  noticed  his  preoccupation  when  there 
was  no  need  for  him  to  exert  himself  for  the  pleasure 
of  the  rest,  save  Mona.  Only  Mona  saw  the  shadow 
on  his  face  when  he  laughingly  greeted  the  pic- 
nickers. 

"  I  call  it  plumb  foolishness  for  one  of  my  age 
to  come  up  here  when  I  might  be  comfortable  and 
make  a  pretense  of  being  cool  at  home,"  Prudence 
grumbled,  as  she  flung  herself  down  on  a  rug  spread 
for  her  by  the  attentively  solemn  Welch. 

The  cave  was  cool  and  aglow  with  the  lanterns 
Mona  had  brought  and  quickly  placed  and  lighted 
while  Joan  held  the  crowd  without  the  cave,  by 


334       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

pointing  out  the  magnificent  view  of  the  serene 
desert  vastness. 

"  It  is  cool  enough  here  for  any  one,"  Rodney 
said,  making  an  effort  to  laugh  naturally.  "  And 
you  should  not  talk  of  '  your  age '  when  you  are 
going  to  beat  all  us  younger  chaps  to  the  matri- 
monial altar.  You  and  the  youthful  Samuel  are  of 
those  who  have  eternal  youth,"  Rodney  bantered. 

A  slow,  deep  red  surged  over  the  face  that  was 
strangely  like  and  as  strangely  unlike  the  gaunt, 
grim  face  of  the  Prudence  White  of  two  years 
before. 

"Now,  Rodney,  I  wouldn't  plague  her;  she  is 
tired."  Welch  wagged  his  head,  mournfully. 

"  No,  let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  for  to- 
morrow we " 

"  Live."  The  silver  voice  of  the  old  minister 
finished  the  quotation  to  his  own  satisfaction. 

Gray,  who  had  begun  it,  and  over  whose  head 
hung  the  sword  of  the  consumptive,  added  soberly, 
"  I  hope  so,  Dad." 

"  Let  us  eat  and  drink  at  any  rate."  The  doctor 
laughed.  "  The  inner  man  of  me  is  clamoring  for 
the  flesh-pots.  Who  will  begin  to  feed  me?  Don't 
all  speak  at  once,  but  some  one  speak  quick."  His 
eyes  were  on  Lois  now,  and  a  slow  flush  mantled 
her  face,  as  she  answered  involuntarily,  "  I  will." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       335 

"  Good  for  you,  Lois,"  Welch  shouted.  "  He  is 
slower  than  I  was."  Welch  smiled  almost  brightly 
now  at  Prudence.  Every  one  but  Lois  and  the 
doctor  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed  Welch's 
sally.  Lois  bent  her  head  to  hide  the  scarlet  flush 
that  dyed  her  face,  and  the  doctor's  face  paled,  as 
he  looked  from  her  to  Joan  with  a  pained  light  in 
his  eyes. 

Every  one  in  the  village  knew  that  the  doctor 
loved  Lois.  All  of  them  wondered  why  he  did 
not  speak. 

"  While  you  prepare  to  feed  the  doctor  and  the 
rest  of  us,  I'll  play  for  you,"  Rodney  said,  quickly, 
eager  to  shield  Lois  from  further  embarrassment. 

"You  brought  the  violin,  didn't  you,  Joan?" 

"  Could  you  think  for  a  minute  that  I  would 
forget  that,  Rodney  White?  For  such  a  doubt  I 
am  half  inclined  to  give  the  doctor  the  biggest  piece 
of  the  pie  I  baked  all  by  myself."  Joan  held 
the  violin  behind  her  and  faced  Rodney,  a  teas- 
ing light  in  her  eyes.  "  I  had  intended  to  give 
my  beloved  guardian  the  largest  piece,"  she 
teased. 

Rodney  dropped  to  his  knees  in  mocking  humility. 
"  Forgive  me,  fair  maiden,"  he  pleaded.  "  Never- 
more shall  I  doubt  you." 

"  Swear  it,"  Joan  demanded. 


336       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Good  for  you,  Joan,"  the  irrepressible  Gray 
shouted.  "  You  would  have  graced  the  Olympian 
garden  of  the  Gods.  Of  such  as  you  are  the  god- 
desses made." 

Rodney  smiled  his  approval  of  the  youth. 

"  Swear,  or  no  pie  for  you  at  all,"  Joan  de- 
manded, firmly,  with  a  sidewise  glance  at  Gray. 
Gray  beamed  at  her. 

"  Hurry  up  and  swear,  if  you  must,  Rodney;  do 
anything  she  asks  you.  Swearing  is  ungodly,  but 
you'll  do  in  the  end  anything  Joan  tells  you  to,  so 
you  might  as  well  get  it  over  with." 

Prudence  was  tired.  She  was  unused  to  climbs 
or  long  walks,  beside  she  was  still  ruffled  over  Rod- 
ney's teasing. 

"  I  swear,"  Rodney  said,  quickly. 

With  the  violin  tucked  under  his  chin,  he  turned 
his  back  to  the  picnickers  and  looked  out  across  the 
desert,  as  revealed  from  the  cave.  The  sun  rode  high 
in  the  sky  now,  and  the  desert  glistened  under  its 
hot  rays. 

From  the  heart  of  the  violin  came  deep,  quivering 
notes  and  majestic  chords.  On  the  crest  of  some 
of  those  splendid  chords  the  little  group  of  merry- 
makers were  swept  back  into  some  primeval  exist- 
ence— back  to  the  very  beginning  of  things.  Pierc- 
ing flights  of  melody  and  deep  chords  alternated 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       337 

through  the  theme  that  was  of  the  primeval  and 
things  primal. 

The  doctor's  eyes  never  left  Lois'  face,  and  his 
own  face  was  pale  and  rigid,  yet  on  it  was  written 
the  light  of  a  new  determination.  His  eyes  held 
hers  as  the  melody  swept  on  and  on  in  matchless 
harmony,  and  Lois  knew  that  her  days  of  waiting 
were  over — knew  that  he  would  speak  soon — knew 
that  he  would  explain  his  long  silence,  a  silence  of 
lips  only,  for  his  eyes  were  ever  afire  with  love 
when  they  looked  into  hers. 

In  the  revealing  notes  of  the  throbbing  melody, 
one  could  see  the  naked  soul  of  things,  for  the  voice 
of  the  violin  laid  bare  life  as  it  is. 

One  could  hear  in  the  undercurrent  of  the  theme 
the  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  some  virgin  forest — 
could  hear  the  voices  of  the  first  men  and  their 
mates  laughing  in  primal  joy. 

And  the  song  ran  on  and  on  until  a  quiver  of 
pain  came  in  it  as  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  of  the 
virgin  forest  gave  place  to  the  ring  of  progress. 

With  a  final  resounding  chord,  Rodney  ceased 
playing,  and  turning,  caught  the  light  in  Joan's 
eyes,  as  she  leaned  forward,  her  lips  half -parted, 
spellbound  by  the  majesty  of  the  music. 

An  almost  holy  look  came  into  the  man's  eyes 
as  his  fingers  began  to  shape  the  melody  of  the 


338       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Ave  Maria."  It  was  the  melody  Joan  loved  best, 
and  under  the  theme  of  it  ran  an  undercurrent  of 
his  great  love  for  the  child.  And  through  it  all 
throbbed  the  spirit  of  his  self-imposed  renunciation 
— his  renunciation  of  Joan  until  she  would  be 
twenty. 

There  was  silence  when  the  last  notes  trembled 
far  out  across  the  desert  ...  a  silence  that  was 
more  appreciative  than  any  spoken  applause. 

"Where  is  my  pie?"  Rodney  demanded  at  last, 
boyishly. 

Martha  Welch  dabbed  her  eyes  with  her  hand- 
kerchief, and  looked  at  Prudence.  "  I  forgot  eat- 
ing," she  said,  helplessly. 

Rodney  laughed.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  good 
Martha. 

"  We  have  been  fed  on  the  food  of  the  immortal 
gods,"  said  Gray,  and  he  voiced  the  feelings  of 
them  all. 

"  I  starve,  nevertheless,"  Rodney  said,  playfully. 
"  I  have  a  longing  for  something  that  looks  like  cold 
fried  chicken.  Aunt  Prue  and  Miss  Welch  fried 
enough  chicks  yesterday  so  that  there  ought  to  be 
some  coming  our  way  to-day." 

So  they  ate  fried  chicken  and  other  dainty  acces- 
sories, and  all  went  merrily  until  Joan's  pie  was 
served. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       339 

Welch  took  a  bite  of  his  piece  first  and  a  peculiar 
expression  passed  over  his  face,  accentuating-  its 
usual  mournful  appearance.  Not  a  word  did  he 
say,  however,  but  munched  his  pie  slowly,  solemnly, 
as  if  such  pie  was  a  thing  of  delight. 

Prudence  saw  the  expression  on  Welch's  face, 
and  hastened  to  taste  her  piece  of  pie,  as  she 
glanced  around  at  the  entire  assemblage  eating  pie 
in  a  peculiarly  tense  silence. 

"  Joan  Worthington ! "  Prudence  exclaimed. 
"  What  did  you  put  in  this  pie?  " 

"  Nothing  but  what  you  told  me,  Aunt  Pru- 
dence," cried  Joan,  her  face  clouding.  "  Isn't  it 
good?  I  sliced  the  apples  and  put  the  spice  in  and 
the  sugar — and — oh,  is  it  so  bad  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  right,  little  girl,"  Rodney  responded, 
as  he  took  a  huge  bite  of  the  pie  and  began  to 
chew  it,  smiling  ecstatically,  as  if  the  pie  was  ex- 
ceedingly delicious. 

"  Stop  eating  that  pie  this  instant,  Rodney 
White,"  Prudence  snapped.  "  It  is  simply  horrid, 
and  besides  it  may  contain  poison.  Taste  it  your- 
self, Joan.  Don't  stand  there  gaping  while  a  lot 
of  foolish  men  eat  such  pie  just  because  you 
baked  it." 

"Oh,  oh,  it  is  simply  dreadful;  I  am  mortified 
to  death !  "  Joan  wailed,  her  mouth  quivering  piti- 


340       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

fully,  as  she  took  a  bite  of  the  pie  over  which  she 
had  been  so  proud  that  morning.  "  That  spice  did 
not  smell  right,  Aunt  Prudence,  but  I  thought  the 
baking  would  make  it  all  right." 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  spice  ?  "  Prudence  de- 
manded, suddenly  suspicious. 

"  Out  of  the  spice-box  on  the  end  of  the  top  shelf 
in  the  pantry,"  Joan  returned,  spiritedly.  "  And  it 
said,  '  Best  mixed  spices '  on  the  box,  just  as 
plain  as  could  be." 

"  Joan,  you've  done  it  now,"  Prudence  snapped, 
then  her  face  flushed.  "  I  suppose  it  is  my  fault, 
though — I  put  that  new  kind  of  flea  powder  in  it 
that  Samuel  brought  over  the  other  day."  She 
turned  reproachfully  to  Welch. 

"  But  for  pity's  sake,  Joan,  why  couldn't  you 
have  got  the  box  of  spice  on  the  first  shelf?  "  She 
turned  back  to  Joan,  her  eyes  flashing.  "  There  is 
no  sense  in  your  keeping  your  head  in  the  air  all 
the  time.  You  promised  me  if  I'd  let  you  make 
the  pies  you'd  make  them  just  as  I  told  you,  and 
now  you  have  probably  poisoned  us  all." 

"  Never  mind,  Joan,  I  have  a  stomach  pump," 
the  doctor  laughed,  but  there  was  a  pain  in  his  heart 
because  Prudence  was  so  sharp  with  the  child. 

"  What's  spice  for  the  fleas  should  be  spice  for 
the  flee-ers,"  Gray  broke  in.  "  But,  Joan,  I'll  mag- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       341 

nanimously  give  the  rest  of  my  pie  to  the  fleas,  since 
Miss  White  says  the  spice  in  your  truly  excellently 
baked  pies  belong  to  those  worthy  little  workers 
who  make  life  interesting  when  alone  in  one's  tent 
at  night  with  just  the  stars  and  thoughts  of  happy 
childhood." 

Joan  began  to  cry.  Rodney  drew  her  down  be- 
side him. 

"  She  can  weep  on  my  shirt  front  to-day,  can't 
she,  Aunt  Prue?  "  Rodney  asked,  boyishly. 

"  She  had  better  be  praying  for  us  all  to  be 
saved  from  being  poisoned  like  rats,"  Prudence 
snapped. 

"  You  meant  like  poisoned  fleas,  Miss  White,  did 
you  not?"  Gray  asked,  dryly.  "  If  I  am  to  die 
in  the  cause  of  the  weeping  maiden  I  want  to 
be  sure  just  what  kind  of  powder  was  used  so 
effectively." 

Every  one  but  Prudence  laughed  at  Gray's  sally. 
Even  Joan  smiled  through  a  mist  of  tears.  Then 
suddenly  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  drew  her  lithe 
form  erect  with  a  quick  intake  of  her  breath.  "  We 
shall  none  of  us  suffer  any  ill  effect  from  the  pow- 
der," she  exclaimed,  a  rapt  light  in  her  eyes. 
"'They  shall  take  up  serpents;  and  if  they  drink 
any  deadly  thing,  it  shall  not  hurt  them,'  "  she 
quoted  softly.  "  We  have  His  promise.  The  pie 


342       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

is  not  good  to  the  taste,  but  it  will  not  harm  any 
of  us." 

"  Amen!  "  came  the  silver  voice  of  the  old  min- 
ister. 

"Right-o!"  approved  Gray. 

"  Humph !  "  sniffed  Prudence. 

"  Well,  here's  to  the  pie  and  here's  to  the  flea, 

And  here's  to  the  powder  too. 
And  here's  to  the  girl  who  mixed  powder  and  spice, 
And  here's  to  her  eyes  so  blue. 

"  Come,  let  us  drink  to  her,"  cried  Gray,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  a  glass  of  sparkling  spring  water 
held  high  above  his  head. 

"  Drink !  Drink !  Drink  the  nectar  of  the  gods 
to  the  pride  of  Rainbow  Springs." 

"  Now  here's  to  the  Princess  Mona ! "  cried 
Graham,  another  of  the  sick  fellows,  when  the  trib- 
ute had  been  given  to  Joan. 

"  I'm  with  you,  boys.  They  are  both  the  finest 
girls  in  the  world,  but  I  wouldn't  mind  a  bit  if  the 
drink  was  a  little  stronger."  Welch  winked  at 
Rodney,  and  wagged  his  head  mournfully,  as  he 
drank  the  tribute  to  the  chum  of  Joan. 

Joan's  eyes  scintillated  with  pleasure,  as  she 
pressed  Mona's  hand  in  hers. 

"  Humph !  "  Prudence  sniffed.    "  Water  is  strong 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       343 

enough  for  any  man  to  drink,  Samuel."  Prudence's 
voice  showed  her  disapproval  of  Welch's  reference 
to  something  stronger. 

Welch  scratched  his  head  solemnly.  "  I  swear 
to  you,  Prudence,  I  was  thinking  of  your  coffee 
when  I  said  something  stronger." 

A  hot  flush  that  might  have  been  embarrassment 
or  pride  swept  over  Prudence's  face. 

Rodney  began  to  play  softly  to  break  the  ten- 
sion, and  as  before  luncheon,  everything  was 
forgotten  while  they  all  listened  to  the  matchless 
harmony. 

Mona  was  the  only  one  who  caught  for  an  instant 
the  glimpse  of  a  laughing,  triumphant  savage  face, 
as  Chawa  passed  the  cave's  entrance. 

Her  eyes  were  very  grave  and  troubled  when 
they  all  went  down  to  the  village  in  the  purple 
twilight. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  to-night,"  the  doctor  said, 
as  he  paused  for  an  instant  with  Rodney,  beside  the 
tree  under  which  Arth  rested.  "  It  is  about  her." 
He  nodded  toward  Joan,  coming  down  the  road,  her 
arm  about  Mona's  supple  waist. 

"All  right,  old  man;  I've  been  waiting  for  it," 
Rodney  returned.  The  doctor  did  not  notice  the 
last  of  Rodney's  response,  his  eyes  were  on  Lois. 

A  pang  shot  through  Rodney  as  he  waited  for 


344       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Joan  and  Mona  to  catch  up  with  him.  Rodney 
shrewdly  imagined  what  the  doctor  was  going  to 
talk  about  that  night,  still  the  pain  was  lessened 
as  he  watched  the  doctor  overtake  Lois  and  raise 
his  hat  to  her.  There  had  been  that  in  the  doctor's 
face  all  day  which  assured  Rodney  the  doctor  would 
also  talk  to  Lois  that  night. 

"  Come  on  in,  Joan.  Aunt  Prue  and  Welch  will 
be  a  long  time  getting  here,"  Rodney  said,  as  he  and 
Joan  entered  their  own  yard. 

"  I've  just  been  imagining  what  I  would  do  when 
you  grew  up  and  some  Prince  Charming  dashed  up 
on  his  charger  a  la  young  Lochinvar  out  of  the 
west  and  carried  you  off  from  me,"  Rodney  said, 
whimsically.  He  teased  that  he  might  see  the  fire- 
light flash  in  her  eyes,  but  he  was  astounded  when 
she  flashed  back  with  a  trace  of  her  old-time  anger 
in  her  voice,  "  Your  imagination  outruns  your  com- 
mon sense,  then." 

"  Well,  well,  that  from  my  little  Joan,"  he  said, 
lightly,  as  she  stood  erect  and  flashing-eyed  before 
him,  and  suddenly  the  girl  Joan  seemed  to  have 
vanished  from  his  life,  leaving  a  woman  Joan,  un- 
utterably sweet. 

He  jerked  himself  together  with  an  effort,  as  he 
recalled  his  determination  to  wait  five  long  years 
before  he  told  Joan  all  that  was  in  his  heart  to  tell 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       345 

her  now,  strange,  divinely  sweet  mixture  of  child 
and  woman  that  she  was. 

"  What  a  kid  it  is !  "  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  when 
he  could  control  his  voice. 

The  frank,  teasing  tone  seemed  to  disappoint  the 
somber  blue  eyes  searching  his  face. 

"  Come  on  in,  then,"  she  returned,  with  just  a 
trace  of  impatience  in  her  low  voice.  "  I'll  give  you 
your  supper  before  Aunt  Prudence  gets  here." 

"  Not  if  I  know  myself,  you  won't,"  came  the 
voice  of  Prudence. 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  get  the  supper  to-night,  Aunt 
Prudence;  I'll  be  careful,"  Joan  pleaded. 

"  No,  I'll  get  it,"  Prudence  returned,  ungra- 
ciously. "I  left  you  to  get  supper  last  night,  and 
you  put  sugar  in  the  oyster  soup  instead  of  salt,  and 
salt  in  Rodney's  coffee  when  he  distinctly  asked  for 
sugar,  and  .  .  . " 

"  Don't  name  anything  else  to-night,  please,  Aunt 
Prudence,"  pleaded  a  very  meek  Joan.  "  But  no 
one  was  sick  because  of  the  pie,"  she  cried,  trium- 
phantly, as  she  disappeared  in  the  house,  Rodney 
close  beside  her. 

"  Stay  out  here  a  while,  Prudence,"  Welch  begged 
timidly.  "  Don't  you  love  the  way  the  wind  blows 
in  all  full  of  sweetness  when  the  shadows  of  night 
begin  to  creep  softly  over  the  desert?" 


346       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  You  are  daffy  over  this  desert  country  just  as 
Rodney  and  Joan  are,"  Prudence  retorted,  as  she 
brushed  aside  Welch's  timidly  detaining  hand  and 
went  in  to  get  supper. 

Prudence  was  frankly  past  the  age  of  romancing 
in  the  moonlight.  She  tried  to  make  Welch  realize 
it,  yet  liked  him  all  the  better  because  he  would  not 
be  a  prosaic  middle-aged  lover,  as  she  told  him  he 
should  be. 

In  spite  of  his  funereal  appearance,  Welch  had 
the  spring  of  eternal  youth  in  his  heart,  and  was 
as  boyish  in  this  second  romance  as  he  had  been  in 
his  first  homage  to  the  goddess  of  love. 

"  Humph,  moonlight  and  shadows  of  night  creep- 
ing softly  over  the  desert,"  Prudence  sniffed,  her 
mouth  twitching,  as  she  mixed  her  bread,  her  supple 
wrists  moving  in  rhythmic  flexibility. 

"  Samuel  acts  like  a  boy,  or  would  if  I'd  let  him. 
I  hope  I  never  shall  act  as  silly  as  he  does,  but 
Samuel  is  a  good  man,  and  I'll  be  proud  of  him  in 
Orion.  He  looks  so  dignified  and  scholarly.  Sam- 
uel is  such  a  handsome  man,"  she  sighed,  happily. 

Not  for  worlds  would  Prudence  have  called 
Welch  "  Sam."  Even  when  alone  she  thought  of 
him  as  "  Samuel." 

"  Tell  Samuel  he  can  stay  to  supper  if  he  wants 
to,"  she  jerked  out,  as  Joan  came  in  to  set  the  table 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       347 

for  supper.  "  I  think  Mona  will  be  here  presently ; 
I  told  her  to  come  in  half  an  hour  .  .  .  now  don't 
get  me  all  messed  up,"  she  grumbled,  secretly 
pleased,  however,  when  Joan  flung  her  arms  about 
her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  Oh,  you  are  good,  good !  "  Joan  whispered, 
implanting  a  kiss  upon  the  ear  into  which  she  had 
just  whispered,  then  she  flew  from  the  room  to  bid 
Welch  stay  for  supper. 

"  I  knew  she'd  ask  me  to  stay  if  I  hung  round 
long  enough,"  Welch  returned,  with  a  solemn  wink 
at  the  moon,  rising  silver-winged  in  the  sky. 

The  supper  was  a  delight.  Such  biscuits  as  only 
Prudence  could  make  were  flanked  by  potatoes  as 
well  cooked  as  the  bread,  rich  and  tender  ham, 
fried  just  as  Joan  liked  it  best,  with  clear  amber 
coffee  that  had  an  aromatic  fragrance,  found  only 
in  the  coffee  brewed  by  Prudence. 

"  Promise  Mona  you  will  not  leave  the  house  to- 
night," Mona  pleaded,  as  Joan  bade  her  good-night 
after  supper. 

"Why?"  Joan  demanded. 

"  Because  I,  Mona,  wish  it,"  Mona  returned, 
softly.  "  Would  you  not  grant  me  such  a  small 
wish,  little  friend?" 

"  I  would  do  almost  anything  for  you,  Mona, 
dear,"  Joan  returned,  with  a  fervent  kiss.  "  But  I 


348       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

had  thought  of  going  up  to  the  twin  palms  to-night 
to  meditate  on  having  reached  the  ripe  old  age  of 
fifteen,  but  I  love  you  well  enough  to  wait  another 
year  for  that  meditation,  and  then  I'll  have  another 
year  to  think  about,"  Joan  added,  with  a  happy 
little  laugh. 

"  I  am  glad  you  love  Mona  so,"  Mona  said, 
gratefully,  and  glided  off  down  the  road  toward 
home  with  the  graceful,  swinging  glide  that  was  her 
own  peculiar  seductive  gift. 

An  hour  later  Joan  started  up  the  trail  that  led 
to  the  Cave  of  Rest.  She  had  thought  of  going  for 
Mona  to  accompany  her,  but  the  cottage  windows 
were  dark,  and  she  supposed  Mona  was  asleep.  It 
was  long  past  her  bedtime. 

"  I  am  glad  I  did  not  promise  outright  not  to  go 
away  from  the  house  to-night,  but  I  implied  it,"  she 
added,  honestly,  as  she  looked  back  ruefully. 
"  Nothing  but  that  would  make  me  go  after  even 
an  implied  promise,  but  I  cannot  leave  Her  up  there 
to-night.  I  simply  cannot.  It  must  have  slipped  off 
when  Mona  and  I  were  spreading  the  rugs  down." 
She  put  her  hand  regretfully  to  her  throat  where, 
ever  since  she  could  remember,  had  rested  the  locket 
containing  her  mother's  miniature.  She  had  looked 
at  it  the  first  thing  every  morning  of  her  life  since 
she  was  old  enough  to  know  what  it  meant  .  .  . 


349 

and  now  it  was  gone.  She  had  missed  it  when  she 
started  to  look  into  the  sweet  eyes  so  like  her  own, 
before  preparing  for  bed. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  one  of  her 
temperament  to  wait  until  morning  to  search  for 
the  precious  locket. 

She  slipped  out  through  the  side  door  without 
disturbing  either  Rodney  and  the  doctor,  who  were 
talking  in  low  tones  in  the  living-room,  or  Welch 
and  Prudence  in  the  dining-room. 

As  she  passed  the  Indian  burying  ground,  she 
wondered,  a  bit  regretfully,  where  Don  could  be, 
then  she  smiled  as  she  thought  of  him  with  the  old 
man  she  loved  so  dearly  and  who  she  had  insisted 
should  be  joint  owner,  with  her,  of  the  beautiful 
collie.  She  smiled  again  dreamily,  happily,  as  she 
recalled  many  of  the  events  that  had  taken  place 
during  the  eventful  three  years  that  had  passed 
since  she  and  Rodney  and  Mona  had  found  the  old 
man  in  the  old  well  at  Tellput. 

But  for  the  first  time  in  her  life — and  she  had 
gone  there  alone  at  midnight — she  shivered  as  she 
entered  the  Cave  of  Rest  and  lighted  one  of  the 
lanterns  that  had  added  to  the  brightness  of  the 
cave  that  day. 

She  found  the  locket  near  the  spot  where  Rodney 
had  stood  when  he  played  that  day,  and  her  eyes 


350       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

glowed  with  a  light  that  would  have  gladdened 
Rodney.  The  light  still  lingered  in  her  eyes  as  she 
started  down  the  trail  and,  with  the  locket  once 
more  resting  where  it  had  rested  so  long,  she  was 
inclined  to  laugh  at  her  fears  until  just  as  she 
reached  the  twin  palms  Chawa,  with  a  triumphant 
light  in  his  flashing,  savage  eyes,  suddenly  appeared 
before  her. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

'ONDER  where  Gray  is?  "  Bentley  ques- 
tioned at  large  of  the  group  of  men 
around  one  of  the  reading-tables  in  the 
Hall  of  Hope. 

"  Don't  know;  he  started  down  the  trail  with  the 
divine  Martha,"  said  Hobson,  one  of  the  half-dozen 
boys  whom  the  doctor  had  deemed  able  to  make  the 
climb  to  the  Cave  of  Rest. 

"  If  I'd  had  my  way,  I  would  have  come  down 
with  that  royal  princess,  Mona,"  piped  up  Graham, 
a  young  Englishman.  "  But  she'd  have  none  of 
me,"  he  added,  with  a  comically  mournful  air. 
"  She  and  White's  ward  came  down  together,  with 
White  and  Dad  close  behind  them." 

Graham  had  only  been  a  few  weeks  at  the  village, 
but  ever  since  his  arrival  he  had  been  half  in  love 
with  Mona. 

"  Oh,  fudge,  your  royal  princess  is  just  a  half- 
breed,"  Hobson  said,  sneeringly. 

"  Don't  care,  she's  the  real  article,"  Graham  re- 
turned, heatedly. 

35« 


352       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Mona  is  all  that  is  good  and  pure  and  true," 
came  the  voice  of  the  old  minister.  "  And  further- 
more, gentlemen,  I  stand  to  her  as  Rodney  White 
does  to  Joan.  It  may  also  interest  you  to  know  she 
has  finally  consented  to  be  adopted  by  me.  I  have 
applied  for  the  necessary  papers  .  .  .  soon  she  will 
be  my  daughter,  by  adoption.  This  Fall  I  expect  to 
send  her  off  to  a  finishing  school.  I  want  both  her 
and  Joan  to  attend  Mills." 

The  old  minister  moved  directly  in  front  of  the 
boys  and  faced  Hobson. 

"  Mona  is  God's  child,  Hobson,  my  boy,  and  a 
lady,"  he  said,  gently. 

Hobson  fell  back  from  the  searching  gaze  of  the 
old  man. 

"  I  assure  you,  I  meant  to  treat  her  as  a  lady," 
piped  Graham.  "  By  Jove,  I  did,  you  know.  And 
hang  me,  Mr.  Sherwood,  I  shall  ask  you  for  her 
hand  some  day.  She'd  grace  a  crown,  by  Jove. 
Not  that  I'll  ever  have  a  crown  to  offer  her,  you 
know,  but  she's  a  princess,  sir,  a  princess.  And  I 
love  her,  by  Jove,  I  do.  My  love  is  real  and  sincere, 
sir."  Graham's  face  flushed,  and  his  voice  shook. 

"  Good  for  you,  Graham ;  I  did  not  know  you  had 
it  in  you.  You  are  of  the  stuff  of  which  men  are 
made,"  sang  out  one  of  the  men  in  the  back- 
ground. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       353 

Hobson  started  toward  the  door,  muttering  under 
his  breath. 

"  Come  back,  Hobson,  boy,"  the  old  man  said, 
kindly. 

Hobson  obeyed  sulkily. 

Dad's  eyes  met  Hobson's  somber  ones  with  a 
tender,  compassionate  look;  suddenly  the  old  man 
smiled. 

Hobson  never  forgot  that  smile.  It  seemed  to 
him  then  and  in  the  future  that  the  smile  was  the 
benediction  of  some  Holy  Spirit. 

All  anger  and  defiance  left  Hobson's  eyes.  "  For- 
give me,  Dad,"  he  cried,  his  voice  ringing  true. 

"  Aye,  lad,  that  I  had  done  before  you  spoke.  I 
called  you  back  because  I  love  all  my  boys ;  I  cannot 
let  any  of  them  go  from  me  wounded.  It  is  the  gift 
of  the  young  to  speak  lightly.  I  would  trust  my 
Mona  with  you  any  place,  lad." 

Just  then  Martha  came  to  the  door.  "  Where  is 
Mr.  Gray  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  trace  of  anxiety  in 
her  voice. 

Martha  was  the  matron  of  the  doctor's  ideal 
resort,  and  at  last  Martha  had  found  her  true 
vocation  in  life.  The  maternal  spirit  in  her  ever 
looked  out  of  her  mild  eyes,  and  she  mothered  her 
"  boys,"  as  she  called  the  sick  men,  with  a  truly 
beautiful,  motherly  tenderness.  Moreover,  she  over- 


354       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

saw  the  cooking,  and  every  meal  was  a  triumph  of 
nourishing  delectability. 

"  I  think  he  turned  in  at  the  Major's,"  said  Mer- 
rimac,  a  silent,  diffident  chap,  who  seldom  spoke 
unless  necessary.  Merrimac  was  a  university  grad- 
uate, had  taken  a  year's  course  at  Cooper's  Med- 
ical College.  He  was  of  valuable  assistance  to  the 
doctor,  and  the  doctor  was  helping  him  in  a  course 
of  study  that  would  be  of  greater  value  to  him 
than  the  training  at  the  Medical  College  would  have 
been  during  his  second  and  third  years  there. 

"  Reckon  Gray  has  gone  to  plague  Cuby,"  Gra- 
ham advanced.  "  By  Jove,  you  know,  that  nigger 
is  a  heap  of  fun,  he's  real  sport,  by  Jove.  Flanni- 
gan  went  with  him,"  he  added. 

Merrimac  turned  a  page  of  the  book  he  was  read- 
ing, and  lost  the  trend  of  the  conversation. 

"  He  is  all  right,  Martha,"  Dad  said,  cheerfully, 
but  his  pale  face  became  a  more  silver  gray,  and 
a  pained  look  crept  into  his  eyes. 

"  There  he  is  now,"  exclaimed  Hobson.  A  door 
at  the  side  of  the  hall  swung  open,  and  Gray  en- 
tered with  a  cheerful,  "  Hello,  stay-at-homes,  I've 
been  making  a  call  on  Cuby." 

"  Faith,  and  he  wint  to  call  on  Cuby,  so  he  did," 
broke  in  Flannigan,  brushing  back  his  red  Irish 
hair  with  a  freckled  hand.  "  Begorry,  and  I  wint 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       355 

with  him,  and  whin  we  got  there  Cuby  was 
alone." 

"  Saw  the  Major  shying  off  with  that  young 
Apollo,  Chawa,  or  we  should  not  have  paid  our 
respects  to  Cuby,"  laughed  Gray,  perching  himself 
on  the  edge  of  the  table  near  the  old  minister. 

The  old  man  smiled  at  the  lad,  and  laid  his  gentle 
hand  on  the  thin  shoulders.  Gray  was  the  life  of 
the  village  despite  the  fact  that  none  knew  better 
that  himself  how  short  a  time  he  might  be  there. 
He  had  made  the  climb  to  the  Cave  of  Rest  that 
day  against  the  strict  orders  of  the  doctor  not  to 
do  so.  When  reproached  by  the  doctor  for  dis- 
obeying orders,  Gray  made  answer  in  his  usual 
flippant  manner.  "  How  could  Joan  be  fifteen  and 
have  her  picnic  party,  doctor,  dear,  without  me 
there  to  oversee  the  job?  I'll  not  go  next  year,  eh, 
doctor?" 

And  the  doctor  had  turned  away  misty-eyed. 
The  doctor  was  very  fond  of  Gray — every  one  was. 
He  was  so  cheerful,  so  patient,  and  withal  so  un- 
selfish and  ever  ready  to  do  something  for  the  other 
sick  men,  almost  all  of  whom  were  much  more  able 
to  do  for  him  than  he  for  them. 

"  What  now  between  you  and  Cuby  ?  "  asked  the 
old  minister. 

"  Faith  and  there  was  plinty,"  said  Flannigan. 


356       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  It's  meself  that  calls  no  more  with  Mister  Gray. 
We  had  to  lave  so  sudden  like.  I  was  half-way 
down  the  home  road  when  Gray  overtook  me. 
'  The  divil,'  says  I,  '  but  I  hate  to  run  from  a 
dommed  nigger,'  begging  your  pardon,  Dad,  but 
that's  what  Cuby  is.  Gray  coughed." 

"  Never  mind  the  cough,  Flannigan,  that  is  a 
minor  detail,"  interrupted  Gray. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  Flannigan  mopped  his 
flushed  face.  "  As  I  was  saying,  Gray  coughed, 
and  .  .  ." 

"  I  acknowledge  the  cough,  red  head,  but  don't 
linger  on  it  until  the  judgment  day,"  snapped  Gray, 
whimsically. 

"  Well,  he  coughed,"  said  Flannigan,  beginning 
again. 

Gray  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  comical  air. 

"  Then  he  panted,  and  says  he,  '  It's  not  the  first 
time  we've  moved  for  Cuba,'  and  I  call  that  a 
dommed  good  joke,  even  if  Gray  did  run  alongside 
of  me  like  the  divil  was  after  us  entirely,"  Flanni- 
gan chuckled. 

Gray  smiled  at  him  in  a  quizzical  way.  "  Who  is 
going  to  tell  the  first  of  the  story,  Flannigan  ?  " 

"  Faith  and  you  have  the  floor,  and  it's  long- 
winded  you  are  when  it  comes  to  yarning,  so  go 
on,  while  I  rest  me  weary  soul  a  bit." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       357 

Flannigan  flung  himself  down  on  one  of  the 
leather  cots  with  which  the  hall  abounded,  and 
propped  himself  up  on  his  elbows. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  lie  down  and  rest,  lad  ? " 
The  old  minister  looked  searchingly  into  the  eyes 
so  unnaturally  bright.  He  sighed  as  his  gaze  swept 
on  down  the  pale  cheeks  with  the  spots  of  vivid 
red  burning  in  them. 

"  I  am  living  now,  Dad,  let  me  be  gay ;  I'll  have 
to  lie  down  soon  enough,"  Gray  pleaded,  boyishly. 

"  Tell  the  story  now,  lad,  then  off  to  bed,"  the 
old  man  returned,  softly,  watching  the  boy  lovingly, 
as  he  told  the  story. 

"  I  turned  up  my  collar  and  pulled  down  my  hat 
before  I  knocked  on  the  door — Flannigan  hid  be- 
hind the  orange  tree  there  at  the  side  door  to  watch 
the  fun. 

"'Is  the  Major  at  home,  good  sir?'  I  asked, 
suavely,  when  Cuby  opened  the  door. 

"  '  No,'  he  jerked  out,  and  started  to  close  the 
door.  I  stuck  my  foot  over  the  threshold  .  .  . 
Good  big  foot,  mine,  and  rather  persuasive-looking 
if  I  do  say  it  myself.  ..." 

Gray  eyed  his  feet  reflectively,  then  went  on  with 
a  low  chuckle. 

"  Cuby  stood  there  scowling.  '  I  might  do  busi- 
ness with  you,  my  friend,'  I  began.  '  I  represent  the 


358       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

great  American  Insurance  Company.  You  pay  our 
company  the  small  sum  of  fifty  cents  weekly.  We, 
in  turn,  pay  you  five  dollars  a  month  as  long  as  you 
live.  We  also  pledge  ourselves  to  give  you  the 
finest  funeral  imaginable  when  you  shuffle  off.' 

"  '  What  am  dat  last  ?  '  Cuby  asked.  His  face 
was  full  of  interest  now.  He  opened  wide  the  door 
and  stood  back  to  let  me  enter.  I  didn't  accept  his 
implied  invitation.  It  is  sometimes  easier  to  get 
into  a  house  than  it  is  to  get  out  of  it.  I  began  to 
explain  to  Cuby,  as  if  I  did  not  see  that  the  door 
was  open.  I  said,  *  When  you  cash  in — when  you 
die,  to  put  it  plainly,  we  will  give  you  the  most 
elegant  funeral  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life.  Our 
society  is  especially  beneficial  to  all  of  your  color. 
In  fact,  the  great  American  Insurance  Company 
caters  especially  to  your  unjustly  down-trodden 
race.'  " 

"  Said  that  just  like  a  preacher,  be  gob,  but  he 
did,"  shouted  Flannigan. 

"  Shut  up,"  Gray  said,  succinctly.  "  I  am  telling 
this  tale.  The  door  began  to  come  to,  inch  by  inch, 
began  to  pinch  my  number  tens,  in  fact,"  he 
chuckled.  "  I  knew  I  had  tacked  wrong  some  way. 
While  I  was  getting  my  bearings  again,  Cuby  broke 
forth  into  language,  and  he's  a  beaut,  Cuby  is,  when 
he  gets  going. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       359 

"  '  Sassieties — Organizations — Protective  Insur- 
ance Companies.  Yes,  indeed,  they  cater  to  my 
down-trodden  race.  Huh ! '  grunted  Cuby.  His 
eyes  glittered  and  he  seemed  about  to  warm  up  to 
the  subject. 

"  '  My  dear  sir,'  I  said,  sweetly.  '  The  great 
American  Insurance  Company  is  like  unto  no  other 
in  this  great  wide  world,  I  assure  you.' ' 

"  And  Cuby  looked  so  wild,  I  thought  he  was 
going  to  bat  him  one  right  then,"  Flannigan  broke 
in,  eagerly. 

"  Keep  still,  son,  I  have  the  floor.  I  looked  Cuby 
straight  in  the  eye  and  said  mournfully,  '  Sir,  you 
have  to  die  some  day.  We  all  have  to  die.  It  is 
the  privilege  of  the  human  race.  It's  the  one  sure 
thing.  You  have  to  die,  my  dear  man.' 

"  '  Reckon  I  knows  I'se  got  to  die,'  Cuby  re- 
torted. '  Dey's  dying  ebber  once  in  de  while  in  dis 
burg.  I'm  mighty  damn  glad  the  boss  is  going  to 
clear  out  ob  here  soon.' ' 

"  What  is  that?  "  Dad  interrupted,  eagerly. 

"  Surest  thing  you  know,  that's  what  he  said ;  I 
heard  him,"  Flannigan  cried,  excitedly. 

"  Go  to  sleep,  son,  you  need  it,"  Gray  admonished, 
then  turned  to  the  old  minister.  "  Cuby  implied 
that  he  and  the  exquisite  Major  were  going  to  van- 
ish soon,  sir." 


360       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

He  hesitated  an  instant. 

"  Go  on  with  your  story,  lad,"  the  old  minister  re- 
turned, but  his  eyes  were  troubled. 

"  '  Well,  my  dear  sir,'  I  continued,  '  I  am  glad  you 
realize  we  all  have  to  die,  but  while  we  live  let  us 
all  take  advantage  of  having  an  income  of  five 
dollars  every  month  by  the  small  payment  of  fifty 
cents  a  week.  Think  what  a  good  thing  we  offer 
you,  my  dear  sir.' 

"  '  Things  that  look  too  good  am  generally  to  be 
suspicionated  ob,'  Cuby  interrupted  me. 

"  '  Not  the  great  American  Insurance  Com ' 

I  began. 

"  '  I  know  de  rest  ob  it/  Cuby  interrupted  again. 
He  was  very  dignified  too,  was  Cuby.  '  I'se  been  . 
hoodwinked  by  seberal  new-fangled  sassieties  dat 
wa'n't  wuth  a  postage  stamp  after  it  had  gone 
through  the  mails.  I  jined  the  Fraternal  Unity  once 
when  dey  was  habin'  a  ruction  an'  a  hullabaloo  in 
our  town,  and  dey  got  more  money  out  ob  me  in  a 
week  den  I'd  intended  dey  should  in  a  whole  life 
time,'  quoth  Cuby.  '  Dey  promised  me  to  allers 
treat  me  as  a  brother  no  matter  how  down  I  got  in 
de  world.  I  believed  dem  'til  one  day  I  fin'  I  hab 
no  money.  I  went  up  to  de  Fraternal  Unity  house 
to  a  little  social  time  dey  was  a  habin'  a  few  nights 
later.  De  gal  at  de  desk  in  de  anteroom  says: 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       361 

"  You'se  not  a  member  any  more  case  you  habn't 
paid  your  dues  for  two  months — you'se  done  crossed 
off  our  book  ..."  I  don't  jine  no  more  com- 
panies/ says  Cuby,  very  haughty  like. 

"  '  But  we  are  not  that  kind  of  a  company,  dear 
sir/  I  said,  sweetly,  and  then  that  fool  Flannigan 
had  to  laugh  and  spoil  everything.  I  would  have 
had  Cuby  going  good  and  plenty  pretty  soon.  Gee ! 
Cuby's  face  was  something  fierce  to  look  upon  when 
he  found  a  joke  was  being  played  on  him.  He 
grabbed  his  gun  and  ..." 

"  And  we  run — run  like  the  divil,"  burst  out 
Flannigan. 

"  That  is  the  truth,  we  did  run,"  Gray  laughed, 
joining  in  the  uproar  of  laughter  that  followed 
— laughter  in  which  even  the  quiet  Merrimac 
joined. 

"  Did  he  recognize  you  ?  "  Dad  asked,  anxiously. 

"  He  didn't  have  time,"  Flannigan  shouted. 
"  When  Gray  saw  the  jig  was  up,  he  did  a 
fancy  getaway  that  would  do  credit  to  a  bank 
burglar." 

The  old  man  smiled  his  relief. 

"  It  is  time  for  bed,  lads,"  he  said,  gently.  "  But 
before  you  go,  I  will  tell  you  all  the  joke  on  Joan 
to-day.  She  asked  me  to  tell  it;  since  some  of  the 
boys  knew  it,  she  did  not  think  it  fair  to  keep  it 


362       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

from  the  rest  of  you,  and  the  chaps  who  knew  it, 
being  gentlemen,  would  not  mention  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Dad,"  Gray  said,  softly. 

"  We  are  to  stay  here  until  the  doctor  comes  to- 
night," Hobson  advanced,  quietly.  "  He  requested 
it  just  after  he  came  down  from  the  picnic  this 
evening.  Said  he  would  be  here  about  ten  o'clock." 

"  Ah,"  murmured  the  old  man.  "  So  he  is  going 
to  speak  at  last,"  he  mused. 

"  By  Jove,  but  I  felt  creepy  and  little  when  Joan 
stood  up  there  like  some  ancient  goddess  or  saint 
and  quoted  Scripture  at  us,"  said  Graham,  when 
the  old  minister  had  finished  telling  of  the  flea- 
powder  pies.  "  I  was  beginning  to  feel  all  sick  and 
crampy,  too,"  he  added,  with  a  wry  smile,  "  but 
when  she  stood  there,  looking  so  exalted,  and  said, 
in  that  cock-sure  manner  of  hers,  that  none  of  us 
would  feel  any  bad  effects  from  the  pie,  by  Jove,  the 
sick  feeling  left,  and  I  haven't  felt  it  since." 

"  Same  here,"  said  Gray.  "  Joan  is  a  wonder. 
She  told  me  the  Christian  Science  statement  of 
being  the  other  day.  I  asked  her  if  she  was  a  Chris- 
tian Scientist.  *  I  hope  I  am  a  Christian/  she 
flashed  back.  '  I  am  not  a  Christian  Scientist,  but 
I  do  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer.  I  know  there 
are  many  wonderful  faith  cures  now,  even  as  there 
were  when  Christ  was  upon  the  earth.  I  just  re- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       363 

cited  to  you  the  Christian  Science  statement  of  be- 
ing. They  deny  that  sickness  exists.  Christ  healed 
the  sick,  but  he  did  not  deny  that  there  was  sickness 
and  sin  in  the  world. 

"  '  There  are  other  sects  in  the  world  who  heal 
by  faith,  and  effect  as  many  wonderful  cures  as  do 
the  Christian  Scientists,  and  these  other  sects  do 
not  deny  that  sickness  and  sin  exist.  There  is  good 
in  all  of  them,  Mr.  Gray.  And  the  main  thing  after 
all  is  to  believe  in  Christ,  and  we  all  want  to  go  to 
Him  some  day,  so  it  does  not  really  matter  how 
young  we  are  when  we  go,  does  it?  Dad  says, 
"  when  one  gathers  a  choice  bouquet  of  flowers  he 
mixes  the  buds  with  the  full-blown  blossoms,  and  so 
it  is  when  God  gathers  His  bouquets  from  His 
flower  garden."  I  am  so  glad  you  are  ready  to  be 
gathered  whenever  the  Lord  is  ready,'  she  said, 
seriously.  '  And  I  am  excedingly  glad  I  did  not 
remain  long  enough  with  Miss  Warren  to  become 
a  full-fledged  Christian  Scientist  as  she  wished  me 
to.  I  felt  exceedingly  bad  for  a  time  because  she 
did  not  adopt  me  as  she  had  intended,  but  the  Lord 
had  better  things  in  store  for  me,  and  Rodney  says, 
"  All  life  is  so,  '  everything  works  together  for  the 
good  of  those  who  love  the  Lord.'  "  I  am  sure  every- 
thing worked  together  for  my  good,  even  if  I  did  not 
fully  appreciate  the  method  of  working  at  the  time.' 


364       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  She  said  all  this  as  solemn  as  solemn  could  be, 
mind  you,  looking  straight  at  me  with  that  rapt 
light  in  her  eyes  that  makes  one  think  they  are  talk- 
ing to  their  mother,  especially  if  one's  mother  hap- 
pens to  be  dead,  as  mine  is. 

"  Mona  came  along  about  that  time,  and  hang 
my  grandmother's  pet  cat  if  that  Joan  girl  wasn't 
flying  off  across  the  desert  on  Pegasus  almost  be- 
fore I  could  say  scat !  Mona  was  on  her  pony,  and 
Joan  was  laughing  like  she  does  when  she  is  per- 
fectly happy,  just  as  if  a  serious  thought  had  never 
crossed  her  mind." 

Dad  smiled.  The  tale  was  so  highly  characteris- 
tic of  Joan. 

"  Wonder  where  she  gets  such  a  mixture  of 
ideas?"  said  Hobson,  who  had  been  silent  until 
now. 

"  She  has  been  with  Rodney  a  little  over  three 
years,"  the  old  man  answered,  with  a  little  reminis- 
cent smile.  "  You  should  have  seen  her  when  I 
first  knew  her.  That  worthy  aunt  of  Rodney's  has 
ding-donged  at  her  until  she  is  not  half  so  impulsive 
and  free  to  talk  as  she  was.  When  she  came  to 
Rodney — you  have  all  heard  the  tale  of  how  she 
came  to  him — she  owned,  to  quote  her,  '  exactly 
one  Bible,  one  book  of  fairy  tales,'  and  had  spent 
six  months  with  a  Christian  Science  practitioner." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       365 

"  That  explains  it,"  laughed  Gray.  "  I  believe  she 
can  quote  most  of  the  Christian  Science  text-book, 
and  I  am  confident  she  knows  almost  all  of  the  Bible 
by  heart." 

"  Not  quite,"  Dad  returned,  with  a  smile,  "  but  the 
child  knows  more  of  the  Bible  than  most  of  us  do, 
and  she  knows  how  to  apply  it,  too." 

So  they  discussed  Joan  and  praised  her,  for  they 
all  idolized  the  child,  while  Joan  faced  her  danger 
alone,  and  the  doctor  and  Rodney  talked  together 
in  Rodney's  living-room. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin,"  the  doctor  said, 
sadly. 

"  Rodney,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all — my  real 
name — everything — and  please  God  from  this  day 
on  I  go  by  my  own  name.  Thank  God,  my  life — my 
past — my  present — my  future  shall  be  as  an  open 
book  for  all  men  to  read.  Even  though  I  lose  your 
friendship,  and  I  value  it  above  that  of  any  other 
man's — I  shall  speak.  You  caused  me  to  speak 
to-night,  lad,  you  and  your  magic  music.  Man! 
Man !  what  a  gift  you  have.  You  make  the  violin 
talk.  God!  It  flays  a  man's  soul  until  it  is  raw, 
then  heals  it  with  one  magic  note.  You'll  speak  to 
the  world  some  day.  Some  day  you  and  your  violin 
will  be  famous,  but  to  my  confession,  man,  for  con- 
fession it  is." 


366       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Rodney  raised  his  hand,  interrupting  the  doctor 
as  he  was  about  to  continue.  "  Let  me  say  right 
here,  doctor,  that  nothing,  nothing — do  you  under- 
stand ? — can  lessen  my  friendship  for  you.  I  prayed 
you  would  speak  when  I  was  playing  up  there  to-day 
and  yet  I  dreaded  to  have  you  speak.  As  for  the 
violin  and  fame.  I  had  my  dream  of  fame — my 
dream  of  the  world  at  my  feet,  sobbing  or  laughing 
at  my  will — I  had  the  power — have  it  now.  I  sac- 
rificed health  itself  to  my  great  ambition.  I  would 
almost  have  given  my  soul  for  fame — fame  such  as 
I  knew  might  be  mine — given  a  few  years  of  perfect 
health.  I  came  to  the  cross  roads  where  I  must  take 
one  way  or  the  other  one  winter  day.  I  had  to 
choose  between  a  brief  triumphant  tour — and  life. 
I  fought  the  battle  out  on  Christmas  Eve — you  know 
the  story  of  how  Joan  came  to  me  out  of  the  storm. 
I  had  not  won  the  battle  when  she  crept  in  the 
room  in  answer  to  the  call  of  my  violin.  I  think 
I  must  have  felt  her  presence  before  the  battle  was 
won  between  fame  and  life.  I  think  her  presence 
there  turned  the  tide  in  favor  of  life.  I  know  a 
divine  peace  came  suddenly.  I  played  on — played — 
the  '  Ave  Maria,'  I  remember,  and  then,  I  looked 
around  and  saw  her.  I  have  played  only  a  few 
times  since  we  have  been  here.  Until  to-day  the  old 
pain,  excruciatingly  intense,  followed  each  hour  with 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       367 

my  violin.  To-day  I  have  not  felt  the  usual  after- 
math of  pain." 

He  arose  and  began  to  pace  the  floor  with  long, 
swinging  strides.  "  But  I  find  the  old  ambition  is 
gone.  I  mean  the  desire  to  bring  the  world  to  my 
feet  has  left  me.  I  am  still  ambitious,  but  Joan, 
bless  her,  and  your  wonderful  work  here  have  to- 
gether opened  the  true  life-book  for  me  to  read — I 
have  read — read  and  understood.  I  intended  to 
come  to  you  to-morrow  to  offer  to  play  an  hour  or 
so  each  day  for  the  boys  at  the  hall.  Their  joy  in 
it  will  be  sweeter  to  me  than  would  have  been  the 
applause  of  the  entire  world  three  years  ago.  I'll 
never  forget  the  light  in  Gray's  eyes  when  I  looked 
at  him  to-day  when  I  was  playing  the  '  Ave  Maria.' 
Brave  old  Gray,  is  there  no  hope  for  him?  " 

"  No,  he  cannot  recover — he  came  too  late,"  the 
doctor  answered.  "  He  will  go  some  day  with  a  jest 
on  his  lips,  but  Gray  is  square  with  his  Maker  even 
if  a  jest  at  fate  is  the  last  word  that  falls  from  his 
lips  .  .  .  and  I  expect  he  will  die  jesting,"  he 
added,  not  knowing  how  truly  he  spoke. 

"  Will  the  violin  help  over  there  as  I  hope  it 
will  ?  "  Rodney  broke  the  silence  that  followed,  and 
his  voice  was  shaky.  Every  one  loved  Gray. 

"  Help !  "  the  doctor  exclaimed,  fervently.  "  I 
sometimes  think  diversion  as  much  as  medicine  is 


368       fOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

what  the  men  need.  And  music — such  music  as 
yours,  man — will  be  of  untold  pleasure  and  benefit. 
The  lads  all  love  music — they  need  diversion — I 
would  not  know  what  to  do  with  them  at  times  were 
it  not  for  Joan  and — and — Lois."  His  fine  face 
flushed  as  he  reverently  spoke  the  name  "  Lois." 
Suddenly  he  recalled  why  he  was  there — remem- 
bered, too,  that  he  had  asked  Lois  to  wait  for  him  to 
come  to  her  at  ten  o'clock,  and  it  must  be  after  nine 
now.  The  boys  were  going  to  wait  for  him,  too. 

Rodney  saw  the  look  on  his  friend's  face,  and 
understood  it 

"  You  came  to  talk,  old  man,"  Rodney  said,  un- 
derstandingly.  "  Go  ahead,  and  remember  that 
nothing  you  say  can  break  our  friendship  or  shake 
my  faith  in  you." 

"  And  yet,  you  condemned  me  once  most  bit- 
terly," the  doctor  returned,  gravely.  "  You  are 
young  yet,  Rodney  boy.  You  may  judge  me 
harshly,  as  you  once  did  unconsciously.  Do  not 
promise  your  continuance  of  friendship  until  I  have 
finished — for  there  is  a  woman  in  the  story." 

"  I  have  guessed  lots,  old  man,  but  here  is  my 
hand  in  friendship  just  the  same,"  Rodney  inter- 
rupted. 

The  doctor  took  the  outstretched  hand — and  held 
it. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       369 

"  I  wear  the  brand  of  philanthropy  on  my  fore- 
head," he  began,  gravely,  "  but  on  my  heart  there 
is  a  scar  caused  by  a  moment's  weakness,  and  the 
scar  scourges  me  every  hour  I  live,  with  a  burning, 
torturing  intensity. 

"  I  must  tell  you  the  story  of  the  scar,  Rodney. 
Then  I  shall  tell  it  to  Lois — and  the  boys.  To  you 
I  shall  tell  all — Lois,  too,  shall  know  all.  But  to 
you  I  must  talk  first.  You  shall  be  my  spiritual 
sanctuary — you  shall  judge  me.  I  believe  you  will 
judge  as  would  the  Saviour  ...  as  He  does  judge 
me.  Shall  I  begin,  Rodney  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Rodney  breathed,  softly. 

The  doctor  sighed,  passed  his  hand  across  his 
eyes  as  one  does  to  shut  out  an  intense  light,  then 
he  began. 

"  You  spoke  of  ambition  a  while  ago.  I  always, 
until  the  scar  came,  had  a  great  ambition  of  my 
own,  but  back  of  my  ambition  was  my  father  with 
an  intense  ambition  for  his  only  son  such  as  he  had 
not  had  even  for  himself,  and  my  father  was  an 
ambitious  man.  When  I  tell  you  his  name,  you  will 
recognize  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  medical  lights 
of  the  century. 

"  I  was  only  nineteen  when  the  woman,  or  rather 
girl,  entered  my  life — only  nineteen  and  the  sixth 
in  direct  line  of  descent  of  great  medical  men.  I 


370       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

had  never  in  all  those  nineteen  years  had  the  in- 
fluence of  good  women — or  bad  ones  either  for  that 
matter.  My  life  had  been  strangely  lacking  the 
gift  of  a  woman's  divine  presence.  My  mother  gave 
her  life  for  mine,  and  ..." 

"  Mine  also,"  Rodney  interrupted,  softly. 

The  doctor  smiled  and  pressed  his  friend's  hand 
understandingly. 

"  My  early  days  were  spent  in  the  usual  manner 
of  the  sons  of  rich  men  .  .  .  with  this  exception, 
I  was  always  taken  care  of  by  men,  never  by  women. 
My  nurse  was  a  man — my  tutors  were  men.  I 
passed  my  school  days  in  a  boys'  preparatory  school, 
but  I  read  books  as  some  of  the  other  boys  did  not. 
And  the  books  dealt  with  women — women  invari- 
ably divine  and  fair  to  look  upon.  When  I  entered 
medical  college,  I  idolized  women  to  such  extent 
that  I  never  discerned  that  even  the  fairer  sex  could 
have  feet  of  clay.  I  should  have  doubted  an  angel 
straight  from  heaven  as  quickly  as  I  would  have 
doubted  the  worst  woman  on  earth. 

"  I  remember  once  I  knocked  one  of  the  fellows 
down  because  he  sneered  at  the  negro  washerwoman 
who  did  up  our  shirts  for  us.  I  offered  my  incense 
at  the  shrine  of  that  old  colored  woman  because 
she  was  a  woman.  I  showered  her  with  flowers  and 
dress  lengths  and  bonbons  even  as  I  would  have 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       371 

pressed  those  things  upon  all  the  women  I  knew  had 
I  not  been  as  timid  with  them  as  I  was  full  of 
worship  for  them.  You  should  have  heard  that  old 
negro  woman's,  '  God  bress  you,  honey  chile.'  I 
am  glad  I  made  her  happy.  She  was  a  dear  old 
black  mammy.  Our  home  was  in  Virginia.  I  went 
home  for  Christmas  vacation  as  usual  that  year. 
One  snow-smothered  day,  I  went  down  to  the  vil- 
lage. I  was  just  opposite  an  almost  snow-buried 
cottage,  when  I  saw  her — the  first  woman — a  slim, 
shivering  girl  in  a  faded  black  dress.  Her  face  was 
pinched  and  blue  with  cold ;  her  eyes,  blue  and  wist- 
ful, as  they  met  mine  seemed  to  hold  an  unknown 
world  of  sorrow  in  their  somber  depths. 

"  Her  slender,  cold  hands  could  not  work  the 
key  in  the  door  of  the  half-buried  cottage.  She  be- 
gan to  sob — dry,  harsh  sobs  unlike  a  woman;  she 
sobbed  but  shed  no  tears. 

"  I  had  stood  spellbound  until  now.  At  the  sight 
of  her  grief,  there  surged  over  me  and  through  me 
an  overwhelming,  overmastering  desire  to  take  her 
in  my  arms  and  comfort  her. 

"  I  cannot  explain  my  feelings.  I  felt  thrilled 
with  the  same  joy  that  Adam  must  have  felt  when 
he  first  saw  Eve  and  knew  that  she  belonged  to 
him.  I  knew  the  girl  was  mine — had  been  mine 
through  countless  ages.  Even  now,  I  cannot  think 


372       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

of  that  moment  without  the  same  feeling"  of  having 
awaited  that  moment  since  the  beginning  of  time 
itself. 

"  I  held  her  eyes  with  mine,  and  some  of  the 
sorrow  seemed  to  leave  them;  the  pitiful  little  mouth 
almost  smiled. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  it  was  I  who  turned 
the  key  in  the  door.  We  entered  the  poorly  but 
neatly  furnished  cottage  together.  When  she  had 
lighted  the  lamp,  for  it  was  dusk  now,  I  asked 
where  to  find  fuel  to  build  a  fire. 

"  '  There  is  none,'  she  answered,  in  a  lifeless  voice. 

"  I  went  into  another  room — the  kitchen — when 
I  came  back  to  her  I  had  wood  to  build  the  fire. 
That  the  fuel  I  held  in  my  arms  had  once  been  a 
kitchen  chair,  she  knew,  but  she  smiled  at  me,  a  wan, 
pitiful  little  smile,  as  I  knelt  on  the  cold  hearth  and 
coaxed  the  fire  to  burn.  I  was  very  proud  of  that — 
the  first  fire  I  ever  made.  I  dragged  an  easy-chair 
up  before  the  jovial  blaze,  and  gently  led  her  to  it. 
Ah !  the  grateful  warmth  of  that  fire  out  of  the  old 
chair."  He  sighed  reminiscently.  "  '  Is  there  any 
tea  in  the  house  ? '  I  asked,  as  she  held  out  her 
chilled  hands  to  the  crackling  blaze.  She  shook 
her  head. 

"  '  I'll  be  back  soon,'  I  flung  over  my  shoulder,  as 
I  left  her.  I  ran  all  the  way  down  to  the  business 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       373 

section  of  the  little  village,  now  gripped  in  an  Arctic 
blast.  The  streets  were  almost  deserted.  I  saw  no 
one  who  knew  me.  The  stores  I  entered  were 
empty,  save  for  some  clerk  with  half -frozen  hands. 

"  When  I  returned  to  the  cottage,  with  my  arms 
full,  the  fire  had  died  down  and  the  girl  was  crying 
— crying  as  women  cry. 

"  I  had  forgotten  to  purchase  fuel,  but  that  did 
not  bother  me.  I  rekindled  the  fire  with  another 
kitchen  chair,  while  the  girl  dried  her  eyes  and 
sobbed  out  the  cause  of  her  grief.  Her  mother 
had  died  the  day  before — had  been  buried  that  day 
— the  girl  was  alone  and  penniless.  She  and  her 
mother  had  lived  only  a  short  time  in  the  village. 
Until  a  few  months  before  she  had  been  counted 
one  of  the  wealthiest  girls  in  Mississippi;  a  few 
months  before  I  found  her  her  father  had  lost  his 
fortune  and  her  mother's  also  in  a  sudden  slump  in 
the  cotton  market.  A  bullet  did  the  rest  as  far 
as  he  was  concerned.  The  girl,  who  had  been  con- 
sidered a  great  heiress  one  day,  was  a  pauper  the 
next. 

"  The  mother  owned  this  little  cottage,  and  she 
and  the  girl  came  to  it  as  soon  as  everything  was 
over.  They  had  only  a  few  dollars ;  these  soon  went 
for  medicine  and  food. 

"  The  mother  broke  down  under  the  strain  of  it 


374       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

all.  Everything  of  value  in  the  little  cottage  was 
sold  the  first  weeks  of  the  mother's  illness.  Later 
the  house  was  mortgaged  to  the  squire  of  the  village 
— a  heartless,  grasping  wretch,  who  had  told  the  girl 
before  the  last  clod  had  covered  her  mother  from 
her  sight,  that  he  would  be  '  round  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  house  the  following  morning.' 

"  I  comforted  her  while  she  ate  the  food  I  brought 
her.  I  had  bought  wine  also,  and  it  soon  gave 
a  faint  glow  of  color  to  the  pinched,  white  face. 

"  I  obeyed  a  sudden  uncontrollable  impulse  and 
took  her  in  my  arms,  where  she  remained  as  con- 
tent and  trustful  as  a  little  child,  while  I  planned 
for  her  future — our  future — for  it  had  come  to 
that — life  without  her  was  not  to  be  considered. 

"  Love  had  come  to  us  both  at  the  same  instant. 
We  burned  most  of  the  furniture  that  night,  and 
the  fire  I  fed  so  lavishly,  roared  and  crackled  its 
approval  of  our  youthful,  innocent  plans.  I  knew 
my  father  would  think  I  was  spending  the  night 
with  a  boy  chum  of  mine.  I  often  did  that  without 
previous  mention  of  my  intentions  to  him. 

"  The  following  day  we  were  married  in  an  ad- 
joining county.  .  .  .  We  were  secretly  married 
— I  knew  my  father,  and  even  though  it  hurt  me  to 
ask  my  darling's  consent  to  secrecy  when  I  longed 
to  blazon  my  love  and  pride  of  her  to  all  the  world — 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       375 

I  asked  that  our  marriage  be  secret,  and  she  agreed, 
that  is  why  I  wear  the  scar  on  my  heart.  I  feared 
my  father's  wrath — feared  to  be  cut  off  from  the 
liberal  allowance  which  would  allow  my  girl-wife 
and  I  to  live  in  some  degree  of  luxury. 

"  When  I  returned  to  college,  she  accompanied 
me.  We  lived  in  a  well-furnished  apartment  near 
the  college  dormitory,  where  I  still  kept  the  rooms 
I  had  had  ever  since  I  entered  the  college.  We  were 
blissfully  happy,  Rodney.  Such  happiness  could  not 
last  forever.  My  beautiful  girl-wife  grew  more 
lovely  every  day.  Each  day  I  grew  more  eager  for 
the  time  when  I  should  have  finished  college  and 
could  support  her  and  acknowledge  her  to  the  world. 

"  Then  the  unexpected  happened — a  child  came  to 
us.  We  were  happy  in  this  added  blessing,  though, 
divinely  happy.  We  knew  that  it  increased  our 
danger  of  discovery,  and  I  feared  that  discovery 
more  than  ever  now.  I  knew  my  father  would  dis- 
continue my  allowance — that  was  the  worst  I  ac- 
credited him  of  being  capable  of  doing  in  those 
days — I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  my  girl-wife 
or  my  innocent  baby-girl  perhaps  suffering  for  the 
very  necessities  of  life  while  I  struggled  to  keep 
them  clothed  and  fed.  I  am  not  advancing  my 
standpoint  to  win  your  sympathy  or  a  lenient  judg- 
ment. No  man  could  judge  me  more  harshly  than 


376       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

I  judge  myself,  but  I  was  still  very  young,  Rodney, 
just  a  little  over  twenty. 

"  The  inevitable  happened.  My  father,  in  some 
manner,  obtained  an  inkling  of  the  affair — run  his 
clew  to  earth,  and  walked  in  on  us,  unheralded  and 
unannounced,  one  evening  just  after  we  had  finished 
our  dinner  and  were  having  our  usual  evening  romp 
with  the  baby,  then  six  months  old  and  the  image 
of  her  mother. 

"  There  was  a  scene — I  do  not  like  to  recall  it — 
I  stood  by  my  wife,  I  shall  always  rejoice  that 
nothing  my  father  said  or  threatened  moved  me  in 
my  intentions  to  be  true  to  her  and  fight  for  her 
no  matter  what  happened  or  what  the  future  brought 
us. 

"  I  can  see  her  now,  with  our  baby  in  her  arms, 
held  close,  in  mother  fashion,  while  she  looked  first 
at  my  father,  then  at  me,  and  each  time  her  eyes 
met  mine  they  were  full  of  love  and  faith  and  pride 
of  me — like  the  look  of  an  angel  was  that  level 
glance  of  hers. 

"  Finally,  my  father  suggested  a  walk  around  the 
square  while  we  continued  our  talk.  '  We  will  see 
what  the  fresh  air  does  for  both  of  us,  madam/ 
he  said,  bowing  low  to  my  wife.  My  father,  even 
when  most  angry,  was  ever  courteous  to  women. 

"  I  kissed  my  wife  and  baby,  and  went  with  him 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       377 

out  into  the  night — a  beautiful  night  with  a  white, 
caressing  moon. 

"  '  We'll  just  walk  over  to  my  hotel,'  father  said, 
after  we  had  taken  a  heated  turn  or  two  around 
the  square. 

"  I  went  with  him,  God  help  me.  He  proposed 
a  drink,  and  although  I  seldom  drank,  I  could  not 
refuse  my  father.  And  fool  that  I  was,  I  thought 
the  liquor  would  give  me  strength  to  battle  on 
against  that  indomitable  will  of  his,  against  which 
I  had  never  been  hurled  before.  I  drank.  The 
next  I  knew,  it  was  broad  daylight,  and  my  head 
felt  like  lead. 

"  I  was  dazed  for  a  long  time.  When  I  could 
see  clearly,  I  realized  that  my  father  had  drugged 
me  in  order  to  carry  out  some  preconceived  plan 
of  his  to  separate  me  from  my  wife  and  baby.  I 
rushed  from  the  hotel  like  a  madman.  Hatless 
and  coatless,  I  ran  every  step  of  the  way  to  the  little 
apartment  where  we  had  been  so  happy  together — 
my  girl- wife  and  I  and  the  little  girl-baby. 

"  God  help  me,  Rodney,  my  wife  and  baby  were 
not  there.  They  were  gone — gone!  It  almost 
drives  me  mad  even  now  to  think  of  that  moment 
when  I  realized  they  were  not  there.  I  raved  for 
hours.  I  ransacked  the  little  apartment  inch  by 
inch,  but  there  was  no  clew — no  note — nothing  left 


378       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

to  give  me  an  inkling  of  what  had  happened  while 
I  lay  senseless  at  the  hotel.  My  wife  and  child  had 
vanished  as  completely  as  if  they  had  never  existed. 

"  At  last,  I  went  back  to  the  hotel.  I  wanted  to 
murder  my  father,  I  thought  to  find  him  there,  but 
he  was  gone.  The  clerk  gave  me  a  curt  little  note 
from  him.  The  note  was  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
straightened  things  out  for  me  this  time,  but  did 
not  want  to  have  to  repeat  the  performance.  That 
drove  me  wilder  than  ever.  The  implied  insult  was 
almost  more  than  I  could  bear  and  retain  my  reason. 

"  I  wished  I  had  never  been  born.  I  grabbed  my 
coat  and  hat,  and  put  them  on  as  I  went  out  of 
the  hotel.  When  I  again  reached  the  dismantled 
flat,  the  janitor  met  me  at  the  door  and  said  an 
expressman  had  just  taken  away  the  furnishings  of 
my  apartment. 

"  I  raved  at  him ;  cursed  him  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  for  allowing  such  a  thing. 
Through  it  all  he  smoked  a  dirty  clay  pipe  and 
leered  at  me  out  of  his  squinting  eyes.  '  I'm  in  the 
pay  of  the  ould  gint,'  he  said  at  last,  as  he  spat 
almost  on  my  feet. 

"  God !  I  could  have  murdered  the  huge  brute. 
When  I  see  a  man  of  his  type,  it  always  brings 
back  that  day  when  he  stood  there  barring  my  way 
to  the  little  flat,  by  brute  strength  alone. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       379 

"  Defeated  by  him,  I  went  over  to  my  college 
quarters  and  wrote  a  letter  to  my  father — I  dared 
not  go  home — I  should  have  killed  my  father  had  I 
seen  him  then.  I  did  not  want  to  do  that,  for  my 
mother's  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  my  girl-wife  and 
baby,  wherever  they  were. 

"  Very  childish  was  that  letter  to  my  father,  but 
full  of  an  undying  love  for  my  wife  and  child. 

"  My  father's  answer  was  characteristic  of  the 
man ;  he  said :  '  Another  outbreak  of  puppy  love 
over  the  affair  I  have  just  canceled  will  result  in 
the  marriage  being  annulled.  Remember,  you  are 
not  of  age.  Be  sensible  and  go  on  with  your  studies, 
or  force  me  to  act  harshly  with  you  as  you  choose 
— the  result  as  far  as  your  so-called  wife  and  her 
child  is  concerned  is  the  same — you  never  shall  see 
the  woman  or  the  child  again.' 

"  I  wrote  another  letter  of  appeal,  a  letter  that 
would  have  softened  a  man  less  stern  and  unyield- 
ing than  was  my  father.  '  My  child  shall  not  be 
dishonored  by  an  annulment  of  our  marriage,'  I 
added  at  the  close. 

" '  Dishonor,  you  young  fool,'  was  the  reply. 
'  You  do  not  even  know  the  meaning  of  the  word. 
Go  to  work  and  forget  you  have  been  a  donkey. 
Your  ears  are  extra  long,  but  you  will  succeed  if 
you  try.' 


380       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  So  he  tried  to  break  me  with  his  wrath  and 
ridicule  every  time  I  appealed  to  him.  I  put  de- 
tectives to  work,  but  they  were  previously  paid  to 
follow  no  clew  for  me.  I  searched  for  some  clew 
myself  but  failed  absolutely. 

"  Nearly  two  years  after  that  terrible  night,  when 
my  father  spirited  my  wife  away,  he  came  to  me 
and  told  me  very  kindly  my  wife  was  dead.  He 
said  my  child  was  with  an  old  Scotchwoman  who 
would  give  her  life  for  it  if  need  be. 

"  I  raved  at  my  father  then  as  I  had  not  raved 
even  when  he  took  my  wife  and  baby  from  me.  I 
was  mad  to  see  our  baby,  the  replica  of  my  darling. 
My  father  let  me  rave,  impotently  rage  until  I  wore 
myself  out.  He  would  not  even  tell  me  where  my 
wife  was  buried. 

"  I  moved  all  the  machinery  in  my  power  to 
locate  the  child.  I  failed.  I  plunged  into  my  work 
and  studied  as  I  had  never  studied  before.  I  hoped 
against  hope  that  some  day  my  father  would  relent 
— would  tell  me  where  my  child  was,  if  I  could  only 
fully  satisfy  his  great  ambition  for  me  in  the  work 
he  laid  out  for  me.  I  had  no  will  of  my  own  those 
days. 

"  And  then  my  father  fell  ill — dangerously,  critic- 
ally ill.  He  had  ever  been  kind  to  me  except  in 
this.  I  forgave  him  before  he  died — forgave  him 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       381 

everything,  even  though  he  told  me  in  the  last 
hour  he  lived  that  he  did  not  even  know  where  my 
child  was — had  not  known  since  the  year  after 
my  wife's  death  when  a  check  he  had  mailed  to 
the  old  Scotchwoman  was  returned,  the  letter 
unopened. 

"  My  father  regretted  then  what  he  had  done. 
He  saw  in  that  last  hour  that  he  had  not  been  in 
the  right,  yet  he  was  proud  of  my  achievements  in 
the  medical  world,  and  even  at  the  end  believed 
my  success  was  greater  than  it  would  have  been  had 
he  not  dealt  with  me  as  he  had. 

"  My  father  left  me  great  wealth,  but  it  meant 
nothing  to  me,  my  last  hope  of  ever  seeing  my 
child  was  gone.  I  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  child 
was  dead.  I  could  not  bear  to  practice  my  profes- 
sion. I  was  feted  and  flattered  as  every  son  of 
rich  and  famous  men  is  flattered,  especially  if  that 
son  has  just  come  into  the  wealth  of  the  father. 
I  was  sick  of  everything  in  the  world  when  I  came 
out  here. 

"  I  turned  my  back  on  my  Creator  during  the  first 
years  I  was  out  here,  Rodney.  Seven  Pine  Lodge 
heard  my  profanity  and  sacrilege  every  waking 
hour,  until  I  returned  to  it  after  that  first  visit  to 
Arth. 

"  I  found  peace  and  a  new  love — a  love  strong 


382       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

and  sincere — at  almost  the  same  hour.  The  child 
led  me  back  to  God,  Rodney.  Lois  taught  me  love, 
a  love  that  will  last  as  long  as  I  do.  I  did  not  know 
the  child  was  mine — my  own  little  girl-child,  when 
she  led  me  back  to  my  Creator,  although  her  eyes 
haunted  me  with  their  resemblance  to  other  eyes.  I 
loved  the  child  from  the  first  with  a  love  so  paternal 
that  it  astounded  me  until  I  knew  she  was  of  my 
own  flesh  and  blood.  The  night  of  her  twelfth 
birthday  party — the  night  I  set  Dad's  broken  leg — I 
learned  she  was  my  child.  My  real  name  is  Nor- 
man Worthington,  Rodney,  and  now,  my  boy,  what 
about  the  friendship  ?  " 

Rodney  caught  his  breath  sharply,  and  his  voice 
broke  when  he  tried  to  speak. 

"  I  am  your  friend  just  as  I  said  I  would  be," 
he  said,  huskily.  "  I  ask  your  pardon,  too,  for  the 
hatred  I  have  had  all  these  years  for  Joan's  father. 
But  you  will  not  take  Joan  from  me,  will  you,  old 
man  ?  I  want  her.  I  love  her  with  a  love  that  is  as 
great  as  yours  ever  was  for  her  mother.  When 
she  is  old  enough  to  know  the  meaning  of  such  love, 
if  she  loves  me  the  way  I  pray  she  will,  I  want  her 
for  my  wife  .  .  .  want  her  as  you  wanted  that 
other  Joan — as  you  want  Lois."  Rodney's  voice 
broke  again. 

Norman  Worthington  reached  out  his  arms  and 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       383 

drew  Rodney  to  him.  "  God  bless  you  for  all  you 
have  been  to  her,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  and  Rodney 
felt  hot  tears — a  strong  man's  tears — splashing-  on 
him. 

"  She  is  your  child,  Rodney — some  day,  God 
grant  she  may  be  your  wife,  but,  Rodney,  I  must 
tell  her  I  am  her  father,  even  if  I  lose  Lois  by  the 
telling,"  the  doctor  said,  after  a  long  silence,  during 
which  soul  had  met  soul  and  communed. 

"  She  shall  know  you  are  her  father,  my  friend, 
as  soon  as  you  care  to  tell  her,  and  I  expect  that 
will  be  early  in  the  morning.  She  will  be  very 
happy,  for  she  loves  you  now.  She  has  always 
censured  her  father  for  leaving  her  mother,  but 
she  will  forgive  you  when  you  tell  her  how  it  hap- 
pened. Joan  is  of  a  divinely  forgiving  nature,  and 
if  I  have  read  Lois  Reeves  aright,  she  will  be  as 
true.  She  will  love  you  none  the  less  because  of 
your  first  love." 

The  doctor's  face  became  suddenly  illumined — 
all  the  shadows  seemed  to  have  been  lifted  from  it 
by  Rodney's  last  words. 

"  God  grant  you  are  right,  Rodney,"  he  said, 
searching  Rodney's  face,  a  tender  light  in  his  keen 
eyes. 

"  Dad  is  going  to  send  Mona  to  Mills  this  Septem- 
ber; I  should  like  to  have  Joan  go  with  her,  if  you 


384       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

are  willing — she  is  gifted  beyond  her  years — I 
should  like  for  her  to  have  music,  she  loves  it  so, 
and  besides,  she  should  be  given  a  chance  to  mingle 
with  other  girls  and  boys  of  her  own  age." 

This  was  something  for  Rodney  to  think  about 
after  the  doctor  had  left  him — and  the  soul  of  the 
man  was  rent  within  him.  "  How  can  I  give  her 
up  for  four  long  years?"  he  demanded,  fiercely, 
pacing  the  floor  with  long,  restless  strides.  "  How 
can  I  give  her  up — away  from  me  four  years  she 
may  find  some  one  else  she  will  love,"  he  moaned 
over  and  over,  after  he  had  exhausted  himself  walk- 
ing, and  flung  himself  on  the  couch. 

"  Joan !  Joan !  I  love  you — love  you,"  he  cried, 
reaching  out  his  arms,  as  if  to  draw  her  within  their 
loving  shelter.  Throughout  all  the  night  the  tem- 
pest raged  in  the  soul  of  the  man.  With  the  coming 
of  the  dawn  came  peace  and  renunciation. 

Gray  was  in  the  midst  of  a  vivid  account  of  some 
college  prank  when  the  doctor  entered  the  hall. 

Not  a  man  there  but  knew  something  unusual  was 
about  to  be  announced.  The  doctor  carried  his  head 
high,  his  mouth  was  set  firm,  and  his  whole  attitude 
breathed  of  the  unusual — breathed  it  tensely. 

Gray  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  word,  and  stared 
with  the  rest  at  the  doctor.  Suddenly  filled  with 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       385 

some  nameless  fear,  the  old  minister  left  Gray's 
side  and  tersely  demanded  of  the  doctor,  "  What  is 
it?"  When  he  looked  closer  at  the  man,  the  old 
minister  saw  he  was  exalted  rather  than  dejected, 
and  fear  gave  way  to  a  pleasant  hope — for  the  old 
minister  had  often  guessed  the  relationship  that  ex- 
isted between  the  doctor  and  Joan.  He  had  seen 
the  man  turn  pale  more  than  once  when  Joan  sud- 
denly appeared  before  him — had  caught  the  paternal 
light  in  his  eyes  when  he  looked  at  the  child. 

The  doctor  laid  his  hand  on  Dad's  shoulder. 
He  raised  his  other  hand  as  if  to  invoke  silence 
where  silence  already  reigned;  then  his  voice  rang 
out,  clear  and  strong. 

"  I  want  you  boys  all  to  know  my  true  name — 
I  am  Norman  Worthington.  My  father  was  the 
Norman  Worthington  of  whom  you  have  all  heard, 
and  of  whom  you,  Gray,  were  speaking  just  yes- 
terday. That  is  not  all,  boys,"  he  added,  hastily,  as 
one  of  them  started  to  speak.  "  I  am  Joan's  father." 

There  was  a  tense  silence  now.  The  doctor 
smiled.  "  There  is  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  boys, 
she  is  my  legal  child.  I  shall  tell  the  whole  story 
to  Dad,  just  as  I  told  it  to  Rodney  White  to-night. 
To-morrow,  Dad  or  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story. 
You  must  all  go  to  bed  now.  There  is  another 
whom  I  must  tell  to-night.  Come,  Dad,  I  shall 


386       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

tell  you  the  story.  Now  to  bed,  boys,  and  God 
bless  you  all." 

Before  any  of  the  boys  could  speak  he  was 
gone. 

"  Come  on  home  with  me,  Merrimac,"  Hobson 
said  at  last,  breaking  the  tense  silence  that  followed 
his  departure. 

"  You  are  going  with  me,  Merry,"  Gray  said, 
softly,  laying  his  thin  hand  on  Merrimac's  shoulder. 
Merrimac  was  looking  at  a  book,  but  he  was  not 
reading. 

"  Merrimac  is  coming  home  with  me,"  Hobson 
said,  stubbornly. 

Gray  turned  and  smiled  at  him.  "  Nay,  nay, 
Hobson,  my  boy,  do  you  think  I  would  trust  a 
Merrimac  with  a  Hobson?  " 

"  You'll  die  joshing,"  Hobson  grumbled,  as  he 
turned  and  left  the  hall,  slamming  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  Hope  I  shall,  sweet-tempered  youth,"  Gray 
flung  after  him.  "  Come,  fellows,  let's  give  three 
cheers  and  a  tiger  for  the  whitest  man  on  earth, 
Doctor  Norman  Worthington,  Joan's  father.  Three 
cheers  and  a  tiger,  boys!  Now  three  more  and  a 
whooper-up  for  White  and  Dad." 

When  the  doctor  came  back  to  the  Hall  of  Hope, 
an  hour  later,  the  hall  was  empty.  He  threw  him- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       387 

self  in  the  chair  Merrimac  had  vacated,  and  propped 
his  chin  up  on  his  palms. 

He  awaited  a  message  from  Lois,  and  the  hall 
seemed  strangely  quiet  and  silent,  yet  it  seemed 
vibrating,  ringing  with  a  soft  undertone  of  the 
cheers  for  him,  which  had  rung  out  on  the  moon- 
laden  air  just  as  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  Lois' 
cottage. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

a  T  T  has  been  a  good  day,"  Martha  Welch  said, 
placidly,  as  in  the  shadows  of  the  coming 
night  she  opened  the  door  of  the  little  cottage, 
where  she  and  Lois  lived. 

"  '  Good '  is  not  the  word,  Martha,"  Lois  re- 
turned, dreamily.  She  stood  on  tiptoe,  on  the  porch, 
and  stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  moon  just  peeping 
up  from  behind  the  mountains.  "  This  has  been  a 
day  straight  down  from  heaven — and  it  has  not 
ended  yet." 

Martha  looked  at  the  girl,  standing  there  like 
some  ancient  goddess  paying  her  tribute  of  praise 
to  the  Moon  Spirit,  and  a  dry  smile  played  about 
her  tender  mouth. 

Then  the  smile  faded  away,  and  sorrow — an  old 
sorrow  that  had  engraved  deep  lines  of  pain  bravely 
borne  on  the  kind,  matronly  face — set  its  signals  at 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  and  in  her  kind  eyes. 

"  Come  on  in,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  dear." 

The  girl's  arms  dropped  to  her  sides.  With  a 
lingering  look  at  the  moon  now  riding  high  above 

the  mountain  peaks  silvered  by  its  bars  of  light,  she 

388 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       389 

reluctantly  followed  the  good  Martha  into  the 
house. 

Once  inside  she  tried  to  speak  and  act  naturally, 
but  she  could  not.  The  doctor's  words  lingered  too 
sweetly,  and  her  blood  was  coursing  too  madly 
through  her  veins  for  calmness  to  come  quickly. 

"  I  must  speak  to  Rodney  first,  then  may  I  come 
to  you  at  ten  o'clock,  Lois — dear?  "  Lois  repeated 
the  doctor's  words  softly  under  her  breath.  Yet 
it  had  been  the  look  in  his  eyes  rather  than  the 
words  that  was  the  key  to  her  madly  throbbing 
pulse. 

Martha  smiled  at  the  girl,  as  she  set  the  table  and 
laid  the  simple  meal. 

"  Mona  is  to  go  to  Joan's  for  supper,"  she  said. 
Lois  was  at  the  window  now,  peering  up  the  road 
toward  Rodney's  cottage.  She  almost  imagined  she 
saw  the  doctor  swinging  up  the  sandy  road.  Ah, 
when  he  should  come  to  her !  She  caught  her  breath 
sharply  at  the  thought. 

"  Tea  is  very  soothing,  Lois,"  Martha  said,  dryly, 
as  she  laid  a  tender,  motherly  hand  on  the  girl's 
shoulder.  "  And,  7  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Lois  turned  and  smiled  at  the  woman,  who  caught 
her  in  her  arms  and  pressed  her  close  in  a  motherly 
embrace. 

"  Oh,  Lois,  dear,  be  kind  to  him,"  she  whispered. 


390       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Do  not  let  the  little  green-eyed  god  spoil  your  life 
as — as  I  let  it  spoil  mine.  Remember,  Lois,  Love  is 
the  best  thing  in  life  after  all,  and  no  one  is  perfect, 
dear.  You  must  remember  that  a  man  is  different 
from  a  woman.  A  woman — a  true  woman — loves 
but  once.  Most  men  can  love  twice,  Lois.  My  hap- 
piness was  shattered  because  the  man  I  loved  had 
loved  before.  I  pray  you  will  not  allow  the  same 
thing  to  blight  your  life.  The  doctor  is  a  true 
man,  Lois,  worthy  of  even  you." 

Lois  held  the  older  woman  out  from  her  and 
looked  into  the  mild  eyes,  tender  with  love's 
memory. 

"  Martha !  Martha !  "  she  cried,  as  she  buried  her 
face  on  the  woman's  broad,  comfortable  shoulder. 
"  How  did  you  know  ?  Oh,  Martha !  Martha !  I 
am  so  happy." 

"  Then  keep  your  happiness,  child.  And  remem- 
ber that  I  am  not  blind,  Lois,  and — and  well,  never 
mind." 

"  But  I  do  mind,  Martha,  dear !  "  cried  Lois,  ten- 
der and  sorry  for  Martha's  lost  dream  of  happiness. 
She  was  strangely  atune  with  this  older,  more  placid 
woman  to-night.  Her  own  love  made  her  under- 
stand the  other  woman's  brief  hour  in  Love's  para- 
dise. She  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  what  might 
be  the  meaning  of  the  doctor's  long  silence — she 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       391 

could  stand  anything  except  another  woman  before 
her. 

Martha  caught  the  look  in  the  girl's  eyes  and  read 
it  aright. 

"  Come  on  to  supper,  Lois,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  And  you  may  as  well  prepare  yourself  for  the 
other  woman.  How  I  wish  some  one  had  tried  to 
prepare  me  for  that  first  woman." 

Lois  complied  and  smiled  at  Martha,  as  she 
sipped  her  tea  and  buttered  her  bread.  The  tea  and 
bread  were  excellent,  but  the  tea  could  have  been 
bitter  and  the  bread  dry  and  hard  and  buttered 
with  sawdust,  Lois  would  not  have  noticed  the 
difference. 

"  I  don't  think  he  has  done  anything  worse  than 
gambling — or — or  perhaps  killed  some  one  in  self- 
defense,"  Lois  said,  cheerfully. 

"  What  a  small  matter  murder  is  compared  to  a 
first  love,"  Martha  laughed,  then  she  grew  grave. 
"  Never  send  him  away  because  of  the  other  woman, 
Lois,  dear.  He  loves  you  truly  and  honestly,  he 
has  loved  you  ever  since  that  night  Mona  brought 
him  to  see  poor  Mr.  Arth,  and  just  think  of  all 
he  has  accomplished  here  at  the  Springs,  Lois. 
When  he  tells  you  of  the  other  woman  just  remem- 
ber all  he  is  doing  to  stamp  out  the  dread  disease — 
just  remember  all  he  has  done  to  make  the  sick  boys 


392       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

happy  and  comfortable — think  what  he  has  done  for 
me — for  all  of  us !  " 

"  Isn't  his  work  splendid  ?  "  cried  Lois,  forgetting 
to  make  even  a  pretense  of  eating. 

"  Bread  is  rather  staying,  Lois,"  Martha  said, 
quietly. 

Lois  blushed,  and  began  to  eat  again.  "  Oh,  he  is 
so  good !  "  she  cried,  after  she  had  eaten  steadily 
for  perhaps  a  minute.  "  He  is  doing  what  no 
other  man  in  the  whole  world  has  ever  done  for 
the  poor  consumptives.  Think  how  many  went 
away  well  this  winter  .  .  .  well  and  with  money 
in  their  pockets  to  keep  them  until  they  could  pre- 
pare themselves  for  good  positions.  Would  any 
other  man  do  it? 

"  Just  think,  even  the  president  of  the  nation  is 
coming  to  visit  him  here  and  inspect  his  wonderful 
work.  One  cannot  pick  up  a  newspaper  these  days 
without  reading  about  the  wonderful  Consumptive 
Health  Resort  supported  and  ideally  run  by  a  doc- 
tor whose  real  name  is  known  only  to  a  few  high 
in  authority  and  to  his  brothers  in  the  medical! 
world.  But  to-night,  Martha,  dear,  we  shall  all 
know  who  he  is — he  is  coming  at  ten,  Martha,  and 
I  am  so  happy ! 

"  Oh,  it  is  good,  good,  this  work  of  his.  Ever 
since  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  and  the  disease  robbed 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       393 

me  of  my  parents,  I  have  dreamed  of  just  such  a 
place  as  this — but  before  he  came,  it  seemed  im- 
possible that  such  a  place  could  ever  exist  except 
in  my  dreams— it's  like  one  of  Joan's  fairy  tales 
come  true,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  What  a  dear  child  Joan  is,"  Martha  said,  smil- 
ing reminiscently,  as  she  recalled  Joan's  flea-powder 
pie,  and  the  child,  with  that  rapt  light  in  her  eyes, 
declaring  there  would  no  harm  come  to  any  of 
them. 

"  The  doctor  says  she  is  the  best  medicine  he  has 
for  the  boys  except — except  .  .  . "  Lois  blushed. 

"  Except  Lois  Reeves,"  Martha  finished,  dryly. 

"  Isn't  Joan  a  dear,  and  Mona,  too  ?  "  Lois  said, 
hastily.  "  I  am  not  sure  which  I  love  the  better. 
I  am  so  glad  there  have  been  no  other  white  children 
here  since  the  Wards  and  Peysons." 

"  So  am  I.  Yet  they  were  well-behaved  enough, 
I  suppose,  after  Rodney  showed  their  parents  the 
letter  that  mean  Major  wrote  to  his  friend  the 
Judge.  Joan  and  Mona  seem  to  be  all  the  children 
I  want  to  care  for.  They  are  enough  for  us." 

"  And  for  each  other,"  Lois  returned.  "  What 
splendid  foils  they  are !  How  true  of  them :  '  Faith- 
ful friendship  doth  them  both  suppress,  and  them 
with  mastering  discipline  doth  tame.'  The  divine 
Spenser  surely  understood  true  friendship,  Martha, 


394       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

dear.  You  love  your  work  here,  don't  you?"  she 
added,  after  a  long  dreamy  silence. 

Martha  came  back  from  her  own  dreams  with 
a  start.  "  Love  it,  Lois,  child !  "  she  cried.  "  No 
one  but  my  God  will  ever  know  how  I  love  the 
work.  The  boys  are  so  dear — all  of  them,  and 
Gray  especially.  I  wish  Gray  were  mine,  Lois,  even 
as  I  have  often  wished  you  were  my  own  little 
girl." 

"I  am  yours,  Martha ;  you  are  my  only  mother, 
and  oh,  you  are  such  a  good  mother  to  me,"  she 
cried,  passionately.  "  You  have  been  as  good  as  any 
mother  could  be  to  a  child,  ever  since  I  first  came 
here." 

"  Will  you  stay  here — after — after  .  .  .  ? " 
Martha  faltered.  She  longed  so,  yet  feared  to  hear 
the  answer. 

"  If  there  is  an  after,  Martha,  dear,"  Lois  blushed. 
"  I'll  always  want  to  stay  here — here  with  him  and 
the  work  he  loves.  Life  could  have  nothing  fuller 
or  better  for  me,  Martha,  than  living — with  him 
here.  Just  think  of  working  with  him,  Martha,  as 
only  his  wife  could  work  with  him." 

Lois  made  no  further  pretense  of  eating.  She 
left  her  chair  and  knelt  beside  Martha — and  woman- 
like they  cried  in  each  other's  arms  for  sheer  joy. 

"  Keep  Mona  with  you  to-night,  please,  Martha," 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       395 

Lois  asked,  as  she  started  to  go  into  the  room  she 
had  shared  with  Mona  for  more  than  two  years. 

"  I  understand ;  you  want  to  be  alone  a  while  be- 
fore he  comes- — Mona  will  be  home  soon,  and  I  will 
take  her  in  with  me.  I  must  run  over  to  the  hall 
now  to  see  where  my  boy  Gray  is;  he  didn't  come 
home  with  us,  neither  did  the  Irish  lad,  but  it  is  my 
own  boy  I  am  worried  about." 

Martha  kissed  the  girl  good-night,  then  started 
for  the  hall.  As  she  returned,  after  having  seen 
Gray  and  Flannigan,  she  met  Mona  coming  from 
Joan's,  and  they  went  in  together. 

Alone  in  her  own  room,  Lois  drew  the  curtains 
and  turned  on  the  electric  light.  She  smiled  as  the 
light  flooded  the  room.  Electricity  was  another 
luxury  which  had  been  brought  to  the  little  village 
by  the  doctor. 

An  enveloping,  enfolding  splendor  of  joy  seemed 
to  hover  over  her  and  fill  the  room  with  a  mystic 
glow.  She  went  to  her  mirror,  and  stood  there 
looking  at  herself;  she  felt  a  strange  excitement  as 
she  smiled  at  the  image  reflected  there.  Could  it  be 
that  love's  fulfillment  was  to  be  her  cup  to  drink 
from  this  night  on. 

The  glass  reflected  a  charming,  womanly  girl — 
incredibly  feminine  and  alive. 

This  glorious  reflection  smiling  back  at  her  was 


396       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

a  marvel  to  Lois.  She  was  so  incomprehensibly, 
so  superlatively  happy.  Her  eyes,  her  mouth,  her 
hands,  and  even  her  feet  were  gloriously  happy. 
She  seemed  to  have  developed  a  perfectly  preposter- 
ous capacity  for  enjoyment.  She  lifted  her  skirts 
in  happy  hands,  and  danced  across  the  room  as 
gracefully  and  ethereally  as  could  have  some  wood- 
land nymph. 

She  heard  Martha  and  Mona  talking,  as  they 
came  in  together.  Later  she  heard  Welch,  as  he 
passed  and  called  in  a  happy,  "  good-night "  to 
Martha.  She  knew  it  was  ten  o'clock  then,  for 
Prudence  always  sent  Welch  home  at  that  hour. 
She  heard  Martha  and  Mona  retreat  to  Martha's 
bedroom,  and  knew  the  living-room  was  free  for 
her  and  the  doctor.  She  gave  one  last  look  at  the 
happy  face  reflected  in  the  mirror;  then  turned  out 
the  light,  and  stood  expectant  in  the  dark — the  dark 
that  was  not  darkness  to  her — until  she  heard  his 
knock  on  the  door. 

She  went  to  meet  him,  all  radiant  and  glowing. 
Half  an  hour  later  she  came  back  to  her  room  with 
lagging,  weary  footsteps.  It  was  as  if  all  life  and 
strength  had  left  her — as  if  she  were  suddenly  very 
old  and  very  feeble.  She  threw  herself  down  on 
the  side  of  her  bed,  and  sat  there  very  stiff  and 
very  straight  and  very  still.  She  held  herself  rigid 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       397 

as  if  she  were  facing  a  crowd  of  strangers  who 
knew  not  of  her  sorrow  and  could  not  recognize  her 
right  to  her  grief — stranger  people  who  constrained 
her  to  suffer  in  silence. 

The  existence  of  that  other  woman — of  Joan's 
mother — that  there  ever  could  have  been  another 
woman  before  her  stabbed  her  very  soul  with  live 
flashes  of  pain. 

She  had  asked  for  time  when  he  stood  white- 
faced  before  her  at  the  close  of  his  confession — the 
same  confession  he  had  made  twice,  yes,  thrice  be- 
fore that  same  evening,  meeting  each  time  before 
understanding  and  pardon. 

But  Lois — she  felt  now  it  would  take  her  an 
eternity  to  readjust  herself  to  this  new  order  of 
things.  She  would  have  ended  it  all  there,  when 
she  sat  facing  him,  as  he  told  of  that  other  girl  with 
the  pinched,  pale  face  and  numb  fingers,  and  how 
he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms — would  have  sent  him 
away  forever,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Martha's  warn- 
ing at  the  supper  table.  She  had  gripped  her  fingers 
around  the  chair  rounds  until  they  were  numb,  only 
in  this  way  could  she  keep  silent  while  he  told  of 
his  happiness  with  that  other  woman.  The  doctor 
had  told  her  the  story  of  that  first  love  as  he  told 
it  to  Rodney — told  it  as  a  man  tells  a  thing  to  a 
man,  forgetting  he  was  dealing  with  a  woman. 


398       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

When  he  finished  he  realized  the  difference.  Rod- 
ney and  Dad  had  censured  him  only  for  keeping 
his  marriage  a  secret  in  the  beginning.  Lois  cen- 
sured him  for  loving  the  other  woman. 

An  hour  passed;  two  hours,  and  still  Lois  sat 
there  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  She  knew  the  doctor 
was  waiting  at  the  hall  for  an  answer  from  her — 
the  answer  she  had  half  promised  to  send  by  Mona 
before  she  slept — knew  that  the  doctor  would  stay 
at  the  hall  until  morning  unless  he  was  called  to 
see  one  of  the  boys. 

She  gloried  in  the  very  thought  of  him  waiting 
there  alone,  perhaps  suffering.  "Let  him  suffer;  I 
am  in  agony,"  she  half  wailed  at  last,  as  she  began 
to  prepare  for  bed.  She  would  send  him  no  message 
that  night — perhaps  never — she  might  even  take  the 
morning  train  from  the  Springs  and  vanish  from 
his  life  forever. 

Her  footsteps  as  she  was  undressing  were  hushed. 
She  moved  silently  as  one  does  when  there  has  been 
a  death  in  the  house  and  the  body  lies  in  the  next 
room.  Something  had  died  in  the  next  room  that 
night. 

In  bed,  she  lay  rigid,  with  her  face  to  the  wall, 
her  head  covered  as  if  to  hide  even  the  darkness 
from  her  vision.  She  had  a  strange,  shivering 
sense  of  there  being  only  a  wall  between  her  and 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       399 

the  dead,  that  something  that  had  died  out  there  in 
the  living-room  that  night — out  there  in  the  room 
to  which  she  had  gone  all  radiant  and  glowing  with 
love's  celestial  fire.  Could  it  be  that  love  lay  dead 
out  there,  or  was  it  the  other  woman,  Joan's  mother, 
who  lay  cold  and  silent  where  love  had  gone  in 
triumph  ? 

For  the  first  time  she  thought  of  Joan  compre- 
hensively. Her  own  love  had  made  her  keen  to 
read  love's  signals  in  the  lives  of  others.  She  knew 
Rodney  loved  Joan  with  all  the  power  of  his  splen- 
didly strong  nature.  And  more — she  knew  Joan 
unconsciously  loved  Rodney  with  the  same  love — 
knew,  too,  some  day  the  awakening  would  come 
and  life  unfold  before  those  two  a  perfect  love  and 
understanding. 

She  almost  wished  she  could  change  places  with 
Joan — it  must  be  such  a  wonderful  thing  to  have  a 
heart's  first  love.  Even  Mona,  the  half-breed,  had 
the  first  love.  Graham  was  a  splendid  chap  in  spite 
of  his  English  peculiarities — he  was  worthy  of 
Mona.  Then  a  pang  for  Graham  shot  through  her. 
If  Mona  ever  returned  the  love  of  Graham  it  would 
not  be  the  heart's  first  love.  Mona's  first  love  was 
given  to  Rodney  White.  She  had  read  the  light 
in  Mona's  wonderful  dark  eyes — the  love-light 
Mona  tried  so  bravely  to  keep  hidden  from  those 


400       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

about  her.  How  strange  life  and  love  were  after 
all,  she  mused.  Still  she  was  comforted  because 
Graham,  if  he  ever  won  Mona,  would  have  the 
second  love — she  was  not  alone.  Then  she  sat  bolt 
upright  in  bed.  Martha  had  said,  "  A  woman — a 
true  woman  never  loves  twice."  Poor  Graham! 
Thinking  of  Graham,  she  fell  asleep.  She  awakened 
in  the  early  morning  when  that  strange  darkness, 
tense  and  baffling,  hangs  over  the  earth,  just  before 
dawn  comes.  At  first  her  nerves  were  recharged 
with  torture  —  with  pain  —  with  remembrance  of 
that  thing  sleep  had  most  mercifully  hidden. 
Then  suddenly  there  came  a  song  of  joy  dispel- 
ling the  pains  of  remembrance.  She  found  her- 
self, wrapped  as  she  was  in  that  sublime  darkness, 
forgiving  the  mother  of  Joan — forgetting  that  dead 
thing  in  the  other  room.  There  was  nothing  dead 
out  there  after  all.  Love  had  only  been  stunned 
a  while.  Now  love  was  gloriously,  magnificently 
alive.  Her  heart  was  large  enough  now  for  Nor- 
man Worthington,  also  large  enough  for  Joan. 
She  had  cast  Joan  out  of  her  heart  while  she  lis- 
tened to  the  doctor;  she  could  not  love  her  then 
because  she  was  the  other  woman's  child. 

She  began  to  dress  herself  with  trembling  fingers. 
There  was  no  jealousy  in  her  heart.  She  seemed 
suffused  with  a  glowing,  intense  love  for  everything 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       401 

on  earth.  She  went  into  the  living-room,  but  that 
room  was  unbearable,  because  she  had  been  so 
cruelly  unresponsive  in  it  such  a  short  time  before. 
"  Why  did  I  make  him  wait  all  night  for  the  an- 
swer— myself?"  she  wondered,  passionately. 

She  went  back  into  her  own  room  and  turned  on 
the  light — his  light — her  heart  throbbing  with  joy 
at  the  very  thought  of  it.  She  sat  down  on  her 
bedside  and  was  caught  agreeably  by  the  image  re- 
flected to  her  in  the  mirror.  She  was  all  womanly 
and  sweet  and  glowing  again.  The  cold,  stern  face 
that  had  stared  at  her  when  she  last  looked  in  the 
glass  had  startled  her  with  its  cold,  dead  look. 

Some  one  tapped  on  her  window. 

She  turned  out  the  light  and  raised  the  sash.  Fly- 
ing Eagle  stood  there.  "  I  have  note  for  teacher," 
he  said,  thrusting  a  folded  paper  into  her  hand,  then 
was  off  like  a  flash  in  the  brightening  morning. 

Lois  turned  back  in  the  room,  and  opened  the  note 
with  trembling  ringers.  She  was  compelled  to  turn 
on  the  light  before  she  could  read  the  closely  written 
lines.  Her  eyes  were  misty  when  she  finished  read- 
ing— misty  with  happiness. 

The  note  ran: 

"  Lois,  the  light  shining  from  your  window  tells 
me  you  are  awake  and  bids  me  hope.  I  have  been 


402       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

on  my  knees  most  of  the  night,  dear,  imploring  the 
divine  giver  of  love  for  your  love. 

"  Love  is  life,  dear — life  is  love. 

"  I  know  you  love  me,  please  do  not  let  my  con- 
fession stand  between  us  and  love's  fulfillment  of 
peace  and  joy.  I  love  you,  Lois,  as  I  never  loved 
before — love  you  as  the  one  man  loves  the  one 
woman. 

"  I  am  on  my  knees  now,  praying  you  will  answer 
love  with  love.  I  shall  remain  on  my  knees  until 
your  answer  comes.  God  grant  the  answer  may  be 
yourself — my  love." 

"  May  be  yourself,"  she  repeated,  with  a  throb  of 
joy,  as  she  flung  a  thin  scarf  about  her  head  and 
sped  out  of  the  house. 

The  sky  was  all  rosy  now  with  the  promise  of  a 
glorious  day.  Just  one  star  remained  to  twinkle 
its  understanding  sympathy,  as  she  searched  the  sky 
with  her  dark  eyes,  her  lips  trembling  in  a  prayer 
of  gratitude  because  the  one  man  was  waiting  for 
her — on  his  knees. 

Her  blood  sang  as  it  dashed  through  her  veins 
and  surged  through  her  heart  with  an  almost  suffo- 
cating tumult  of  joy  because  the  answer  would  be 
herself. 

When  she  stood  at  last  at  the  door  of  the 
hall,  her  heart  stopped  its  wild  beating,  and  she 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       403 

stood  silent,  trance-like,  her  hand  on  the  door 
knob. 

The  man  on  his  knees  had  heard  her  footsteps 
on  the  sandy  path  that  led  to  the  door.  Her  feet 
had  scarcely  touched  the  ground,  but  the  ears  of 
love  are  keen. 

He  went  to  the  door,  softly,  reverently. 

"  I  am  coming,  dear,"  she  heard  him  say,  and 
still  she  stood  there;  she  could  not  have  moved  to 
save  her  life.  Her  heart  gave  one  great  exultant 
throb,  then  quivered  in  perfect  joy  when  he  gathered 
her  in  his  arms.  In  a  silence  of  perfect  love  and 
understanding  they  stood  there  until  o'er  the  eastern 
sky 

" — One  wavelet,  then  another,  curled, 
Till  the  whole  sunrise  not  to  be  suppress'd, 
Rose,  reddened,  and  its  seething  breast 
Flickered  in  bounds,  grew  gold,  then  overflowed  the  world." 

"  Lois !  Lois !  "  the  man  cried  at  last,  holding  her 
from  him  and  looking  into  her  eyes,  lover-like. 

Her  eyes  met  his  squarely,  even  though  the 
pulsing  red  swept  up  from  her  throat — up — up  until 
it  was  lost  in  the  glory  of  her  dark  hair. 

"  You  are  my  answer,"  he  said,  softly. 

"  Look,"  she  whispered,  "  your  answer  for  all 
time  is  written  in  my  face." 


404       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

For  one  tense  second  they  stood  there,  reading 
in  each  other's  eyes  the  long,  glorious,  perfect 
future. 

With  his  arms  still  about  her,  they  looked  toward 
the  mountains  bathed  in  the  dawn's  bright  waves, 
and  as  they  looked,  outlined  against  the  tinted  sky, 
on  a  jagged  spur  of  the  mountain,  appeared  the 
grim  head  of  an  Indian  chief. 

"  Look !  Look !  It  is  Joan's  mirage,"  Lois  cried. 
As  she  spoke,  the  illusion  of  the  head  of  the  ancient 
chief  faded  from  the  sky,  and  there  appeared  an 
ancient  city  with  its  thousand  spires  piercing  the 
sky.  A  beautiful  sheet  of  water  tumbling  with 
white-capped  billows  reached  from  the  mountain 
peaks  to  the  walls  of  the  city.  A  soft,  vapory 
atmosphere  hung  over  the  sea,  and  a  gentle  tropical 
breeze  brought  into  view  an  ancient  ship  which 
anchored  just  without  the  city  walls  in  a  sea  of 
rippling  waves. 

Back  of  the  city  were  cool  stretches  of  some 
tropical  forest,  and  on  the  crest  of  a  hill  were  the 
tumbling  towers  and  crumbling  walls  of  some 
ancient  castle. 

"  I  have  seen  it  many  times,  but  never  so  beauti- 
ful as  this,"  the  man  said,  softly,  as  the  vision  faded 
away. 

Lois  turned  to  him  rapt-eyed.     "  How  can  any 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       405 

one  doubt  God,  when  He  gives  us  so  much ! "  she 
cried,  passionately,  lifting  her  arms  skyward.  Her 
loose,  flowing  sleeves  fell  back  from  her  wrists, 
revealing  arms  of  exquisite  roundness. 

The  man,  looking  at  them,  prayed  a  little  prayer 
of  deepest  gratitude  to  God  and  his  desert  for  giving 
her  health — perfect  health.  He  shuddered  as  he 
thought  of  the  disease  which  had  brought  her  to 
the  Springs,  even  as  he  rejoiced  because  she  was 
there,  but  what  if  she  had  gone  as  had  Arth  and 
others — as  poor  Gray  was  going?  He  caught  his 
breath  sharply. 

"  Let  us  go  to  Joan,"  Lois  said,  softly.  She 
turned  to  him.  In  her  eyes  he  read  the  answer  to 
his  prayer  that  she  would  love  his  child. 

"  I  love  her,  have  always  loved  her,"  Lois  whis- 
pered. "  But  she  is  dearer  to  me  than  ever  this 
morning — for  your  sake." 

He  caught  her  to  him  rapturously. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  sky  now,  and  the  village 
was  beginning  to  throb  with  the  song  of  stirring 
life. 

Hand  in  hand,  the  doctor  and  Lois  went  down 
the  sandy  road,  glistening  like  a  ribbon  of  gold 
under  the  sun's  bright  rays. 

They  found  Rodney  on  the  porch,  searching  the 
trail  that  led  to  the  Cave  of  Rest.  The  man  looked 


406       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

pale  and  spent,  and  his  eyes  were  anxious.  Shadows 
of  disappointment  were  creeping  over  his  face,  deep- 
ening the  lines  and  emphasizing  the  look  of  weari- 
ness and  strife  that  had  been  in  the  soul  of  him 
during  the  hours  of  the  night  before  the  spirit  of 
renunciation  came  and  enfolded  him  in  its  com- 
forting embrace. 

No  Joan  was  visible,  outlined  against  the  palms 
as  on  the  yesterday,  and  Rodney  sighed  as  he  turned 
to  greet  his  friends. 

"  We  are  happy,  old  man,"  the  doctor  cried,  joy- 
fully, as  he  gripped  Rodney's  hands  in  his  strong 
grasp. 

A  smile  of  peculiar  sweetness  brightened  Rod- 
ney's face.  He  smiled  at  Lois  as  he  ever  smiled 
at  Joan. 

"  We  come  to  tell  Joan,"  Lois  said,  softly.  "  Oh, 
man!  man!  Foolish  man!  "  she  exclaimed,  as  Rod- 
ney's face  grew  grave  and  his  eyes  saddened. 
"  Don't  you  know  you  will  have  Joan  all  your  life — 
even  as  Norman  will  have  me."  It  was  the  first  time 
Lois  had  spoken  the  doctor's  name.  She  said  it 
shyly,  while  the  deep  red  surged  over  her  face,  then 
receded,  leaving  it  tenderly  glowing. 

"  I — I  don't  understand  you,"  Rodney  said, 
slowly.  "  The  doctor  is  her  father.  He  wants  her 
to  go  off  to  school.  She  shall  go.  I  will  never  stand 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       407 

between  her  and  happiness,  and — and  there  may  be 
some  one." 

"  You  make  me  impatient."  Lois  stamped  her 
dainty  foot.  The  doctor  smiled  at  her,  a  twinkling 
light  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  Rodney  demanded, 
hoarsely. 

"  I  mean,  foolish  man,  Joan  loves  you  both  as  a 
child  loves  and  as  a  woman  loves.  She  is  conscious 
of  the  child  love — is  beginning  to  feel  the  woman 
love.  Some  day,  Rodney  White,  you  will  thor- 
oughly awaken  the  woman  love,  and  then — 
then—" 

"  God  grant  you  are  as  happy  as  I  am  now,"  the 
doctor  supplemented,  eagerly. 

Rodney's  face  brightened  with  an  almost  holy 
light.  He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  azure  depths  of  the 
sky,  and  stood  silent  with  that  rapt  light  in  his  eyes 
with  which  the  devotee  is  pictured — so  might  an 
angel  look  at  the  first  glimpse  of  paradise. 

"  I'll  go  in  and  bring  Joan  to — to  her  father," 
Lois  said  at  last,  feeling  she  had  no  right  there — no 
right  to  witness  the  holy  light  in  the  man's  eyes. 

Lois  went  softly  into  Joan's  room,  thinking  the 
child  might  be  asleep,  although  she  knew  Joan  was 
usually  up  to  greet  the  sun's  first  rays  of  light  flung 
athwart  the  desert  sky. 


408       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

As  she  crossed  the  threshold  and  saw  the  covers 
of  the  bed  turned  back,  but  the  bed  itself  unrumpled, 
her  heart  seemed  to  be  suddenly  clutched  in  a  sharp 
iron  grasp. 

Lois  could  never  explain  even  to  herself  why  she 
was  posssessed  by  such  a  nameless  fear  as  she  stood 
there.  At  that  time  she  did  not  know  of  Rodney's 
fear  of  Chawa — the  fear  shared  by  Mona. 

When  she  could  move,  she  left  the  room  softly 
and  went  in  search  of  Prudence.  She  could  not 
voice  her  nameless  fear  to  the  man  out  there  en- 
veloped in  the  glowing  promise  of  love's  future. 

She  found  Prudence  deep  in  the  intricacies  of 
her  famous  bread-making. 

"  Where  is  Joan  ?  "  Lois  asked. 

"  Out  mooning  over  the  beauty  of  the  sky  and 
desert,  I  suppose,"  Prudence  returned,  dryly. 
Why  ?  "  She  began  to  mold  her  biscuits,  and  Lois 
stood  silent  an  instant,  admiring  the  woman's  deft- 
ness. 

"  Her  bed  does  not  look  as  if  it  had  been  slept 
in.  Did  she  stay  here  last  night,  Miss  White,  or 
did  she  go  home  with  Mona?  I — I  was  rather  ab- 
sorbed last  night — well — I — I — but  I  did  not  hear 
her  talking  with  Martha  and  Mona,  but  it  is  just 
possible  that  I  would  not  have  heard  her  were  she 
with  them." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       409 

Prudence  looked  at  her,  her  pale  eyes  twinkling. 
"  I  expect  you  were  not  the  only  one  absorbed  last 
night,"  she  said,  stiffly.  "  But  Joan  was  home. 
Mona  left  right  after  supper  and  Joan  went 
directly  to  her  room.  I  supposed  she  had  gone  to 
bed.  The  doctor  and  Rodney  were  in  the  living- 
room,  and  I — well  I  was,"  her  stern  features  re- 
laxed and  a  slow  flush  swept  over  her,  changing 
her  entire  appearance.  "  Well,  I  was  ..." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  Miss  White,"  Lois 
smiled  understandingly,  then  her  face  saddened. 
She  again  felt  that  strange  sense  of  fear  she  had 
felt  in  Joan's  room. 

"  We  must  find  Joan,"  she  said,  suddenly,  and  the 
look  in  her  eyes  caused  even  Prudence  to  feel  a 
momentary  sense  of  fear,  but  she  shook  it  off  lightly. 

"  You'll  find  her  with  Mona,  I  reckon,"  she  said, 
dryly.  The  woman's  attitude  reassured  Lois.  She 
blushingly  told  Prudence  of  her  engagement  to  the 
doctor,  told  her  the  doctor's  name,  also  told  her  he 
was  Joan's  father,  for  she  shrewdly  guessed  that 
Rodney,  man-like,  had  forgotten  to  tell  his  aunt. 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  Prudence  gasped.  She  sat 
down  weakly  on  the  nearest  chair.  "  Well,  I 
never !  "  she  repeated,  then,  true  housewoman  that 
she  was,  suddenly  remembered  her  bread,  and  flew 
to  the  stove  to  tend  to  it. 


410       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  But  Joan's  bed  does  not  look  as  if  it  had  been 
slept  in,"  Lois  said,  as  Prudence  began  to  set  the 
table,  Joan's  task. 

"What  is  that?"  Rodney  demanded. 

Unheard  by  either  of  them,  he  had  entered  the 
room  in  time  to  hear  Lois. 

Lois  looked  at  him,  and  her  eyes  fell  before  the 
look  in  his,  as  he  leaned  against  the  door  for  an 
instant,  as  if  he  was  suddenly  very  weak. 

It  was  difficult  for  Lois  to  voice  her  unknown 
fear  to  this  man.  She  opened  her  lips  to  speak, 
but  he  was  gone.  They  heard  the  door  to  Joan's 
room  flung  open — heard  it  slam  shut.  Caught  the 
sound  of  the  outer  door  being  flung  open — heard 
it  bang  to,  then  came  the  sound  of  running  feet 
on  the  hard  path,  and — when  Lois  reached  the 
porch,  the  doctor  was  standing  in  amazed  silence, 
looking  after  the  swiftly  running  figure  of  a  man, 
almost  opposite  the  hall. 

"  It's  Rodney,"  the  doctor  explained,  as  Lois 
gasped  and  pointed  at  the  vanishing  figure.  "  He 
ran  by  me  just  now.  He  looked  perfectly  wild. 
'  It's  that  damned  half-breed ! '  he  shouted,  and  was 
down  the  road  before  I  could  even  think  of  stopping 
him.  He  seemed  perfectly  sane  when  he  went  in 
to  see  if  breakfast  was  ready — wanted  us  to  remain 
for  breakfast,  in  fact." 


Hurriedly,  Lois  told  the  doctor  of  her  own  name- 
less fear,  caused  by  the  unrumpled  bed. 

"  But  surely  Rodney  did  not  mean  Mona,"  the 
doctor  exclaimed,  as  they  started  down  the  road  to 
the  hall. 

"  No,  no,  he  must  mean  Chawa,"  Lois  panted. 

They  found  a  wild-eyed  Martha  at  the  cottage. 
"  Mr.  White  just  left  here,"  Martha  explained,  her 
voice  quivering.  "  He  acts  like  a  crazy  man — do 
you  think  he  has  gone  suddenly  insane,  doctor?  He 
wanted  to  see  Mona.  It  is  queer,  but  we  could  not 
awaken  Mona.  I  tried  first,  and  then  he  rushed  in 
there."  She  pointed  to  her  bedroom.  "  He  shook 
Mona  like  a  cat  shakes  a  mouse,  but  she  still  sleeps 
on;  she  did  not  stir  even  when  he  flung  her 
down  with  an  oath.  Oh,  oh,  what  does  it  all 
mean?"  Her  voice  quavered.  "You  look  as  if 
you  had  seen  ghosts,  too,  both  of  you.  What  is  the 
matter  ?  It  has  been  a  terrible  time  to  me  ever  since 
last  night  when  I  saw  it  .  .  ." 

"Saw  what?"  the  doctor  thundered. 

"  It,"  Martha  repeated,  dully.  "  If  I  believed  in 
ghosts,  I  would  believe  I  saw  one  last  night;  as  it 
is,  I  must  have  seen  an  omen.  Some  shadowy  form 
was  bending  over  Mona  when  I  awakened  sud- 
denly, just  before  you  came  last  night,"  she  spoke 
directly  to  the  doctor.  "  I  could  not  have  been 


4i2       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

asleep  more  than  half  an  hour.  I  raised  up  in  bed, 
and  it  vanished.  I  lay  there  and  shivered  most  of 
the  night;  I  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  everything 
but  was  powerless  to  move  or  call  out.  There  was 
such  a  queer  smell  in  the  room  it  seemed  to  take 
my  breath.  It  was  so  sweet  and  sickening.  You 
can  smell  it  in  there  now,  and  .  .  ." 

"  I'll  see  Mona,"  the  doctor  interrupted,  tersely. 
He  turned  to  Lois.  "  Tell  her  about — about  Joan," 
his  voice  quivered. 

When  he  came  back  from  Mona's  room,  a  moment 
later,  his  eyes  glittered  and  his  mouth  was  stern  set. 

"  Your  ghost  was  real,  Martha — an  omen  of  the 
devil.  Your  awakening  saved  you  from  a  good 
sound  sleep.  Your  sweet  smell  is  chloroform.  I 
opened  the  windows.  Mona  will  wake  up  in  a  few 
hours."  He  was  gone. 

Lois  gasped  and  sank  weakly  into  the  nearest 
chair.  What  could  it  all  mean?  She  flung  her 
arms  about  Martha,  as  the  good  woman  bent  over 
her,  and  they  quivered  and  sobbed  together. 

The  doctor  and  the  old  minister  came  back  to 
the  cottage,  Welch  close  at  their  heels,  all  of  them 
white- faced  and  steely-eyed. 

"  Rodney  is  out  on  Solomon,"  the  old  man  panted. 

"  On  Solomon !  "  Lois  cried,  clutching  her  breast. 
"  When  was  he  brought  back  ? "  she  demanded. 


413 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  Tell  me  quick,  Norman. 
Do  you  know  where  Joan  is — is  she  hurt  ?  "  She 
never  forgot  the  look  the  three  men  gave  her. 

"  We  don't  know  where  she  is,  dear,"  the  doctor 
said,  gently.  "  We  pray  she  is — is  not  hurt.  As 
for  Solomon,  I  was  the  cause  of  his  being  brought 
back,  God  help  me,"  groaned  the  doctor.  "  Rodney 
had  him  brought  back  for  me.  I  wanted  a  horse 
to  drive.  Rodney  and  I  thought  were  he  well 
broken  he  would  be  just  the  horse  I  need.  O  God, 
that  he  had  not  been  brought  back !  " 

For  almost  three  years,  King  Solomon  had  run 
wild  with  a  herd  of  Indian  ponies  in  a  canyon  where 
there  was  plenty  of  water  and  wild  grass  in  abun- 
dance. 

"  O  God !  God !  he  may  be  killed,"  he  groaned. 
"  I  reached  the  corral  just  in  time  to  see  Rodney 
dash  away  on  him.  Rodney's  face  was  like  death, 
his  eyes  were  blazing  like  fire.  Joan !  Joan !  Little 
Joan !  "  he  moaned,  forgetting  Rodney  in  his  agony 
over  the  child. 

"  I  understand  all  too  plainly  why  he  rode  King 
Solomon,"  the  old  minister  said,  quietly.  "  He  is 
the  only  horse  in  the  village — everything  is  gone, 
even  the  Shetland  ponies  are  missing." 

The  cunning  of  the  Indian  and  the  villainy  of 
the  Major  were  set  forth  in  that  sentence. 


414       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Look !  Look ! "  Martha  cried,  sharply. 
Through  the  open  door  she  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  sight  that  sent  chill  waves  of  terror  to  the 
hearts  of  them  all,  as  their  eyes  followed  hers  up 
the  road  toward  the  Indian  burying  ground,  just  as 
Don  came  dashing  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
barking  his  excitement  because  of  the  unusual,  felt 
in  the  very  air. 

For  an  instant  Rodney,  on  the  big  black,  was 
outlined  against  the  white  headstones,  then  the  big 
brute  wheeled  and  with  thundering  hoofs  dashed 
past  the  cottage.  Rodney  tugged  in  vain  at  the 
reins;  King  Solomon  held  the  bit  gripped  tight  in 
his  wicked  teeth. 

Just  beyond  the  hall,  where  the  road  turned 
slightly,  King  Solomon  wheeled  again,  and  once 
more  thundered  past  the  cottage.  On — on  into  the 
old  burying  ground  went  the  wild  beast. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  he  will  go  into  the  well,"  Lois  cried, 
her  face  blanching. 

The  doctor  drew  her  to  him  protectingly.  "  We 
will  pray  not,  dear,"  he  said,  softly. 

The  thought  of  that  ancient  well,  like  the  deep 
terraced  well  into  which  the  old  minister  had  fallen 
in  Tellput,  had  sent  its  flashes  of  terror  to  the 
hearts  of  them  all.  In  the  very  center  of  the  burying 
ground  was  the  yawning  open  mouth,  with  its  crum- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       415 

bling  steps  leading  down  to  the  placid  pool  of  water 
in  the  center  of  the  square  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ragged  walls. 

Suddenly  the  old  minister  knelt  beside  the  collie, 
put  his  arms  about  his  neck,  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear.  Don  bristled,  but  never  made  a 
sound,  but  his  upper  lip  curled  until  one  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  strong,  white  teeth,  and  then  he  was 
off  like  a  flash,  after  the  plunging  black. 

It  all  happened  in  less  than  a  minute,  but  it 
seemed  an  eternity  to  the  terrified  group,  before  the 
dog  reached  the  side  of  the  horse.  They  saw  Don 
give  a  long,  swinging  jump  and  fasten  his  jaws 
on  the  big  black's  nose;  then  the  rude  crosses  and 
gleaming  headstones  that  marked  the  graves  of  the 
bygone  Indians  hid  the  plunging  horse  and  the  flash 
of  gold  from  view. 

When  they  reached  the  burying  ground,  they 
found  Rodney  in  a  crumpled  heap  at  the  very  edge 
of  the  well.  His  face  was  gray  and  drawn  and 
looked  strangely  old.  His  eyes  were  closed;  his 
breath  coming  short  and  painfully. 

"  His  leg  is  broken — that  is  all,"  the  doctor  an- 
nounced, huskily,  when  he  had  assured  himself  that 
Rodney's  heart  action  was  good  though  feeble. 
"  I'll  give  him  an  injection,"  he  added.  Baring 
his  friend's  arm,  he  shot  the  needle  in. 


416       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  Now  we  will  get  him  home,"  he  said,  briskly, 
as  he  straightened  up.  His  face  was  pain-drawn 
and  his  broad  shoulders  stooped  a  little,  while  his 
eyes  were  dimmed  as  though  by  mist. 

"  He  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  Dad,"  he 
said,  softly.  The  old  minister  rose  from  his  knees 
beside  his  friend,  where  he  had  been  kneeling  in 
silent  prayer. 

"  Thank  God — I  love  him  as  a  son,  aye  he  is  the 
son  of  my  old  age." 

"  Lois !  Lois !  I  might  have  expected  this  of 
you."  The  doctor  turned  to  face  Lois  and  Welch, 
who  had  run  from  the  hall  with  a  canvas  cot,  upon 
which  they  tenderly  placed  the  injured  man. 

"  He  will  not  regain  consciousness  until  after  I 
have  set  his  leg,"  the  doctor  answered  the  question 
in  her  eyes.  "  He  will  be  all  right  soon,  little  girl, 
especially  if  we  find  Joan  quickly." 

"Where  is  Don?"  Lois  asked,  her  voice  quiver- 
ing. "  Dear  old  Don,  he  saved  him." 

"  Come  back,"  the  doctor  said,  sharply,  as  Lois 
started  toward  the  well.  "  Solomon  is  dead  down 
there." 

"  Don  is  there,  too,"  she  flashed  back,  as  she 
started  down  the  crumbling  steps. 

"  Stay  with  her,  Dad,  please,"  the  doctor  said, 
huskily.  "  We  must  get  Rodney  home  quickly." 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       417 

Don  lay  on  top  of  the  black  horse,  an  inert,  golden 
heap.  In  an  instant,  Lois  was  feeling  over  his  body. 
In  the  dim  light  down  there  by  the  dead  horse  and 
the  dark  pool  of  water  she  felt  strangely  alone  and 
not  a  little  frightened.  She  gathered  Don  up  in  her 
strong  young  arms  and  picked  her  way  back  up 
the  steps. 

The  old  minister  had  sent  Martha  after  a  pail 
of  water  when  they  first  reached  the  scene  of  the 
accident.  Martha  again  reached  the  spot  just  as 
Lois  reached  the  ground  again,  with  Don  in  her 
arms. 

Martha  did  not  usually  lose  her  head,  but  she  had 
lost  it  this  time  and  was  blubbering  like  a  baby. 

"  Good  old  chap,"  the  old  minister  said,  softly, 
kneeling  beside  Don,  as  Lois  sat  down  with  the  dog 
in  her  arms. 

"  He's  alive,  Dad.  He  is  alive ! "  Lois  cried. 
"  Give  me  some  water  quick,  Martha." 

Martha  gave  her  the  pail  of  water,  and  Lois 
began  to  bathe  an  ugly  cut  on  the  dog's  head  with 
a  ridiculously  small  handkerchief. 

"  Don !  Don !  "  Lois  cried.  As  if  in  answer  to 
her  call  Don  opened  his  eyes,  and  even  tried  to  wag 
his  tail. 

"  He  will  be  the  same  old  Don  as  ever  by  to- 
morrow," the  old  minister  said,  gratefully.  Don 


418       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

wagged  his  tail,  stronger  this  time,  and  looked  un- 
derstandingly  into  the  three  faces  bending  over 
him. 

When  Rodney  regained  consciousness,  his  first 
words  were,  "Joan!  Joan!" 

A  queer  thing  happened  to  Prudence  the  minute 
she  heard  his  voice.  All  at  once  there  surged  over 
her  a  tender,  trembling,  overpowering  flood  of  love. 
Crooning  words,  such  as  a  mother  uses  to  her  child, 
trembled  on  her  tongue  yet  refused  to  be  uttered. 
Her  calm  demeanor  suddenly  left  her — vanished, 
too,  that  stern,  unemotional  rock  behind  which  she 
had  so  often  hidden  the  softer  feelings  which  had  for 
some  time  been  struggling  to  be  recognized.  Her 
heart  throbbed  wildly  in  her  breast,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  she  had  outgrown  her  pinafores,  she 
wanted  to  cry,  wanted  to  sob  as  she  had  seen  other 
women  sob — she  had  thought  them  crazy  then — 
now  she  knew  they  had  been  divinely  sane. 

At  last  she  could  speak.  "  Rodney !  Rodney ! 
My  own  Rodney,"  she  cried,  as  she  flung  herself 
down  beside  Rodney,  and  for  the  first  time  gathered 
him  close  in  her  arms  and  crooned  over  him  like  a 
mother. 

When  she  recovered  herself,  she  and  Rodney  were 
alone  together. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       419 

"  Aunt  Prue,  I  always  wanted  you  to  hug  me," 
Rodney  said,  boyishly,  nestling  in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney !  how  wrong  and  cold  I 
have  been.  Rodney!  Rodney!"  Her  pale  eyes 
were  aglow  with  light,  her  cheeks  were  softly 
flushed.  She  knew  her  transition,  from  a  stern, 
unresponsive  woman  into  a  glowing,  throbbing  new 
creation,  with  a  wealth  of  awakened  maternal  love 
surging  through  her  heart,  had  been  witnessed  by 
more  than  Rodney,  but  that  did  not  disturb  her  in 
the  least.  She  was  a  new  woman — a  real  woman 
at  last,  and  she  cared  not  if  all  the  world  knew  it. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  light  of  a  barbaric  lover  mingled  with 
the  savagely  triumphant  light  in  the  eyes  of 
Chawa,  as  Joan  stood  white-faced  before 
him,  her  hands  clutching  her  heart  in  a  nameless 
fear  that  held  her  captive. 

Chawa  folded  his  arms  and  stood  silent  a  pace 
below  her ;  his  shoulders  were  squared,  and  his  head 
held  high,  like  the  royal-blooded  savage  he  was. 

In  the  silver  light  of  the  moon,  he  looked  like 
some  young  god,  so  perfectly  was  he  modeled. 

So  they  stood  there  silent,  until  Joan  uncon- 
sciously drew  her  lithe  form  erect.  Her  hands  fell 
to  her  sides — the  shadow  of  fear  in  her  eyes  gave 
way  to  a  fearless  glow. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  be  afraid  of  the  terror  by  night, 
nor  the  arrow  that  flyeth  by  day,"  seemed  to  be 
spoken  to  her  by  some  inner  voice,  dispelling  that 
nameless  fear.  Yet,  young  as  she  was,  she  realized 
Chawa's  attitude  toward  her. 

She  moved  as  if  to  pass  him  on  the  narrow  trail. 
He  blocked  her  way  with  outstretched  arms. 

"  Chawa  loves  the  maiden  of  sunshine,"  he  said, 
420 


JOAN  OF  RAWBOW  SPRINGS       421 

softly,  his  low,  musical  voice  quivering  with  a  soft, 
caressing  note".  His  eyes  were  steady  and  flashing 
as  ever,  yet  in  them  was  also  written  his  savage 
love  ...  a  dark  flush  glowed  under  the  dusky 
skin  of  his  cheeks. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Chawa,"  Joan  snapped.  She 
was  beginning  to  be  angry. 

"  I,  Chawa,  love  the  maiden  with  eyes  of  scorn," 
said  the  unruffled  Chawa.  "  I,  Chawa,  in  whose 
veins  flows  the  blood  of  many  great  chiefs,  such 
as  the  pale  face  race  knows  not,  love  the  maiden  of 
sunshine  and  scorn.  .  .  .  For  her  I  have  for- 
saken the  ways  of  the  Indian — my  ways.  For  her  I 
have  become  even  as  the  pale  faced  man  with  whom 
she  has  lived."  His  eyes  were  softer  now,  aglow 
with  love. 

"  You  make  me  tired,"  Joan  cried,  stamping  her 
foot.  "  I  am  ashamed  of  you,  Chawa.  You  are 
silly.  I  am  going  home." 

"  I  think  not."  Chawa's  voice  rang  out  like  the 
snap  of  a  whip,  as  Joan  lightly  swerved  to  one 
side,  eluded  his  outstretched  arms,  and  darted  past 
him. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  repeated,  with  a  snarl,  as  with 
long,  swinging  strides  he  overtook  her  and  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

His  face  was  changed  now,  contorted  with  Indian 


422       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ferocity.  He  crushed  the  trembling,  little  form  to 
him,  laughing  aloud  in  savage  triumph.  The  spirit 
of  his  white  father  prompted  the  kisses  he  began 
to  shower  on  the  pale,  little  face,  the  blue  eyes  glow- 
ing like  wells  of  fire. 

"  Ah,  the  pale  faced  maiden  would  scorn  the  love 
of  Chawa,  would  she?"  he  demanded,  ceasing  to 
kiss  the  scornful,  upturned  face. 

Joan's  eyes  flashed,  but  her  mouth  was  set  tight 
in  a  stern  little  white  line. 

Chawa  laughed,  kissed  her  again,  then  started 
up  the  trail,  bearing  her  in  his  arms. 

At  the  Cave  of  Rest  he  hesitated  an  instant,  then 
went  on  again,  chuckling  triumphantly. 

Up — up  to  the  very  top  of  the  ridge  of  the  low 
mountain  he  went  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a 
panther. 

The  burden  in  his  arms  was  not  a  light  one,  but 
he  carried  it  as  if  it  were  a  feather's  weight. 

At  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  where  a  huge  white 
rock  barred  the  ridge  of  the  mountain  toward  Lone 
Pine  Ridge,  he  stood  Joan  on  her  feet  and  fumbled 
an  instant  at  the  rock.  It  swung  back,  and  on  the 
other  side  lay  a  dim  trail  leading  along  the  ridge  of 
the  mountain  to  the  lonely  cabin  under  the  great 
pine  tree.  Chawa  drew  Joan  through  the  opening; 
the  rock  swung  back  into  place;  he  took  Joan  in  his 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       423 

arms  again,  and  carried  her  for  fully  a  mile.  He 
did  not  speak  again  until  he  set  her  on  her 
feet. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  briefly,  pointing  to  the  moon 
riding  high  in  the  zenith.  "  Look,  oh  maiden  of 
sunshine,  princess  of  the  moonlight,  the  smile  of 
the  Moon  God  is  upon  us.  The  great  Moon  Spirit 
is  pleased  with  Chawa  because  he  has  taken  the 
maiden  with  the  laughing  eyes  for  his  own." 

Joan  looked  at  him  scornfully,  then  her  gaze  was 
held  by  the  beauty  of  the  night.  Under  the  soft 
effulgence  of  the  moon,  the  shifting  sand  hills  and 
vast  stretches  of  sand,  dotted  with  greasewood  and 
cacti,  lay  half  revealed,  half  hidden.  In  the  mystic 
dome  of  the  sky  countless  myriads  of  stars  blazed 
in  magic  splendor,  woven  as  they  were,  by  a  divine 
hand,  in  the  rich  tapestry  of  the  heavens. 

"Oh!  Oh!  It  is  beautiful,  beautiful,"  Joan 
cried,  forgetting  Chawa,  forgetting  everything  ex- 
cept the  matchless  glory  of  the  night.  Never  had 
the  divine  presence  seemed  so  near  to  her.  She  felt 
wrapped  in  the  sheltering  folds  of  the  unseen  but 
protective  love. 

So  they  stood  there  in  the  splendor  of  the  night, 
silent.  So  near  and  yet  so  many  countless  ages 
apart  were  the  souls  of  them,  revealed  by  the  pale, 
phosphorescent  light  of  the  desert  moon. 


424       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Chawa's  voice  broke  the  silence.  "  Ah,  you  love 
it  so,"  he  said,  softly. 

"  Love  it !  Love  it !  Yes,  yes,  I  love  it."  Joan 
wheeled  toward  him,  half  dazzling  him  with  the 
radiance  of  her  eyes. 

Never  before  had  she  seemed  so  desirable  to 
Chawa,  never  so  unattainable.  They  were  alone  in 
the  heart  of  a  vastness  so  great  as  to  be  almost 
appalling,  still  she  seemed  something  set  apart  from 
him,  as  unreachable  as  were  the  moon  and  stars. 

So  silent  was  the  night  they  could  hear  the  faint 
beatings  of  their  own  hearts.  Silent,  yet  throbbing 
with  the  strains  of  divine  music.  It  was  as  if  the 
very  hand  of  God  was  playing  a  matchless  melody 
on  a  marvelous  instrument.  The  mountains,  the 
silvered  stretches  of  sand,  the  low  drifting  sand  hills 
and  the  dark-shadowed  canyons  were  the  strings, 
quivering  and  thrilling  under  their  master's  touch. 

"  Come,"  Chawa  said  at  last,  but  he  did  not 
touch  her,  a  strange  something  seemed  to  stand 
between  them. 

"  Yes,  let  us  return  to  the  village,"  Joan  returned, 
softly.  "  Chawa,  I  thank  you  for  this  glorious 
vision."  She  stretched  her  arms  toward  the  shift- 
ing sand  hills  rippling  and  glistening  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"  Come,  Chawa,  let  us  go  home  and  forget  to- 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       425 

night,  all  but  this."  His  eyes  followed  hers  over 
the  moon-kissed  stretches.  At  that  instant  he  might 
have  obeyed  her,  but  a  noxious  voice  broke  the 
charm  of  sublimity.  It  was  only  an  innocent  burro 
braying  his  gratitude  to  the  moon,  but  it  shattered 
the  divine  harmony  of  the  night  for  Chawa. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  roughly,  taking  Joan  by  the 
shoulder.  "It  is  time  to  cease  dreaming  under  the 
Moon  God." 

Joan  struggled  for  freedom,  striking  Chawa  with 
her  small,  clenched  hands. 

He  laughed  at  the  impotent  blows,  his  eyes  glowed 
with  a  dangerous  barbaric  intensity  as  he  dragged 
her  along  the  ridge  of  the  mountain  until  they 
reached  the  deserted  cottage  under  the  lone  pine 
tree. 

"  You've  been  long  enough  getting  here,"  a  voice 
growled.  Chawa  suddenly  passed  a  handkerchief 
about  Joan's  eyes,  and  drew  it  tight. 

"  Why  didn't  you  do  that  before,  you  young 
fool,"  the  same  voice  snarled.  With  a  start  Joan 
recognized  the  voice  as  the  Major's. 

"  Shut  up,"  Chawa  retorted.  He  lifted  Joan  in 
his  strong,  young  arms,  and  carried  her  into  the 
cottage. 

When  the  bandage  was  removed  from  her  eyes, 
in  the  dim  light  from  a  smoky  lantern  near  the 


426       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

door,  Joan  saw  she  was  alone  with  Chawa,  in  a 
room  in  which  a  bed  with  rumpled  blankets,  a 
rickety  chair,  and  a  small  sheet-iron  stove  were  the 
only  pieces  of  furniture.  Through  a  half-closed 
inner  door  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  shadowy 
figure  which  she  knew  to  be  the  Major's. 

"  Rodney  will  settle  with  you,  you  dirty  sneaks," 
she  blazed.  "  I  hate  you,  hate  you !  hate  you  both ! 
I  demand  to  be  taken  home  immediately.  Let  me 
out  of  here  and  I  will  go  home  alone.  Oh,  oh," 
she  wailed,  "  please  let  me  out  of  here ;  I  want  to 
go  home  to  Rodney !  " 

At  the  mention  of  Rodney's  name  all  the  pent-up 
savageness  of  Chawa  seemed  to  be  suddenly  freed 
from  the  restraining  bonds  of  civilization.  He 
caught  Joan  to  him  in  savage  passion. 

"  You  are  mine — mine !  "  he  exulted.  "  Soon  I 
shall  bring  a  priest,  and  you  shall  become  the  bride 
of  Chawa.  You  love  Mona.  Her  parents  are  also 
my  parents;  why  do  you  not  love  Chawa?  " 

"  You !  You !  I  hate  you,  I  hate  you !  "  Joan 
cried,  striking  at  the  dark,  flushed  face. 

Chawa  laughed.  "  Hate  Chawa,  do  you,  oh 
maiden  with  eyes  of  scorn?  Take  this  for  your  hate 
of  Chawa,"  he  laughed,  kissing  her  trembling 
lips.  "  Chawa  cares  not  at  all  that  his  maiden  hates 
him.  Chawa's  love  is  all-sufficient  with  the  object 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       427 

of  that  love  in  his  arms.  Some  day  the  maiden  will 
return  the  love  of  Chawa — some  day  when  the 
smoke  from  our  tepee  rises  upward  and  is  lost  in 
the  breeze  blowing  in  from  the  sea,  for  Chawa  and 
the  palefaced  maiden  will  go  westward  until  the 
great  body  of  water  that  laps  the  western  shore 
ripples  for  our  delight.  We  will  live  as  lived  the 
forefathers  of  my  mother's  people,  oh,  maiden 
whose  eyes  can  laugh  as  well  as  shoot  flashes  of 
fire.  Some  day  you  will  laugh  and  smile  at  Chawa, 
your  master. 

"  You  will  forget  the  palefaced  man  you  smile 
upon  now,  for  you  love  the  call  of  nature,  you  will 
love  the  care-free  life  we  shall  live  in  our  wigwam 
by  the  sea.  Were  it  not  for  a  foolish  desire  to 
finally  win  the  love  of  the  scornful  maiden,  Chawa 
would  not  bring  a  priest  to  wed  him  and  the  maiden, 
after  the  manner  of  the  white-faced  people.  But 
the  love  of  the  sunlight  maiden  must  be  Chawa's 
some  day." 

Holding  her  tightly  in  one  arm,  he  tip-tilted  her 
chin  with  the  long,  slender  fingers  of  his  free  hand. 
He  laughed  exultantly,  looking  into  the  blue  eyes, 
almost  black  now,  so  full  of  quivering  fire  were 
they.  "  Until  you  are  all  Chawa's,"  he  said,  lightly, 
kissing  the  quivering  lips. 

"  Quit  that,  you  young  fool ;  we  must  get  back 


428       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

to  the  village  before  we  are  missed.  But  for  your 
fool  idea  of  having  a  priest  we  would  have  been 
on  our  way  before  now.  My  revenge  would  be 
sweeter  were  the  priest  omitted,"  grumbled  the 
Major  from  the  inner  room. 

Chawa's  eyes  blazed,  but  he  freed  Joan.  Like 
a  flash  she  sped  into  the  other  room. 

"Major  Phillips!  Major  Phillips!"  she  cried. 
"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  leave  me  here.  Think  of 
your  mother,  please.  Major  Phillips,  she  would 
not  want  you  to  leave  a  poor,  little  helpless  girl 
up  here  with  an  Indian.  Please  take  me  back  to 
Rodney,  Major  Phillips." 

The  pleading  note  in  the  liquid  voice,  and  the 
reference  to  his  mother  moved  the  Major,  and  ap- 
pealed to  a  certain  chivalry  latent  in  all  Southerners, 
but  the  mention  of  Rodney's  name  hardened  him. 

"  Take  your  wild  cat,  Chawa,"  he  snarled,  push- 
ing Joan  from  him,  "  and  may  you  have  joy  of 
her  in  that  wigwam  you  have  been  mooning  about. 
Here,  I'll  fix  her  myself,"  he  added,  grimly,  draw- 
ing her  back  to  him.  "  Now  forward  march,"  he 
commanded,  briskly,  pushing  her  before  him  into 
the  other  room.  He  knelt  suddenly  and  snapped 
a  steel  bracelet  around  her  right  ankle.  The  bracelet 
was  attached  to  a  three-foot  chain  securely  fastened 
by  an  iron  ring  in  the  floor  behind  the  little  stove. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       429 

Arms  folded,  eyes  aglow  with  savage  passion, 
Chawa  watched  the  Major  until  he  had  finished, 
then  with  a  low  bow  to  Joan,  he  silently  left  the 
room. 

The  Major  drew  a  package  from  each  coat  pocket 
and  laid  them  beside  Joan  on  the  dusty  floor. 

"  Bread  and  water,"  he  said,  shortly.  "  I've  lived 
on  it  in  my  day.  Chawa  will  be  back  before  you 
realize  it.  You  will  have  a  sweet  time  as  the  squaw 
of  the  young  devil. 

"  You  can  reach  that  bed  if  you  want  to  lie 
down.  It  is  just  as  it  was  left  when  they  lifted 
Greenleaf  out  of  it  a  few  months  after  he  died  up 
here  alone.  Nice  place  this  for  that  imagination  of 
yours  to  get  busy  in.  Hope  Greenleaf's  ghost  don't 
bother  you."  He  laughed  shortly,  his  beady  eyes 
glittering  triumphantly. 

"  There  are  no  ghosts,  Major  Phillips,"  Joan 
returned,  firmly,  looking  the  Major  straight  in  the 
eyes.  Her  level  glance  caused  a  slow  flush  to  sweep 
over  his  face. 

"  You  are  a  villain,"  Joan  continued,  calmly. 
"  You  should  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Major  Phil- 
lips, but  God  is  with  me  and  will  rescue  rne,  so  I 
am  not  afraid  as  you  would  like  for  me  to  be.  I 
shall  be  glad  when  I  am  alone.  I  hate  you,  but  I 
shall  try  to  pray  for  you.  I  shall  also  pray  for 


430       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Chawa,  although  I  hate  him  too,  but  I  shall  most 
earnestly  pray  that  your  hearts  may  be  soft- 
ened ..." 

"  Chawa's  is  soft  enough  now  about  you,"  the 
Major  interrupted,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I  do  not 
care  for  your  prayers,  young  lady,  do  not  need 
them.  You  had  better  pray  for  yourself.  Your 
master  will  not  be  an  angel;  I  know  him.  Chawa 
is  a  devil.  You  will  learn  much  of  the  devil  soon 
to  offset  some  of  your  religious  knowledge.  You 
will  wish  you  were  a  Brahma  before  you  have 
lived  long  in  that  wigwam  Chawa  speaks  so  flowery 
about  now.  When  you  are  old  and  ugly  like  all 
squaws  get  in  time,  I  shall  come  to  call  on  you." 
He  laughed  again,  and  went  out,  locking  the  door 
behind  him.  He  carried  with  him  the  smoky  lan- 
tern, leaving  Joan  alone  with  the  shadows  shot  by 
the  flickering  light  of  the  moon  glimmering  in 
through  the  window  shaded  by  the  lone  pine 
tree. 

When  she  was  alone,  Joan  went  the  length  of  her 
chain  every  direction.  She  found  she  could,  as  the 
Major  had  said,  reach  the  bed,  likewise  the  rickety 
chair. 

She  sat  down  in  the  chair,  and  tried  to  think 
calmly.  "  Oh,  if  I  had  only  promised  Mona  out- 
right to  stay  at  home,"  she  moaned.  "  She  must 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       431 

have  imagined  something  like  this  would  happen 
if  I  left  home  to-night.  Oh,  Mona!  Mona!  if  I 
had  only  promised  you !  " 

She  straightened  her  shoulders  and  drew  her  lips 
tightly  together.  She  tried  bravely  to  think  of 
other  things  beside  herself. 

"  The  doctor  says  there  are  millions  and  millions 
of  tubercular  baccili  in  all  of  these  places,"  she 
said,  aloud,  as  if  imparting  a  choice  bit  of  informa- 
tion to  some  one. 

"  There  may  be  millions  on  my  feet  by  this  time, 
but  I  am  not  afraid  of  a  single  one  of  them."  Her 
voice  trailed  off  into  shaky  silence. 

"  I  must  remember  the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  here," 
she  whispered,  firmly,  trying  to  pull  herself  to- 
gether. 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  you,  dear  little  mother,"  she 
whispered,  opening  the  locket.  She  could  not  see 
the  wistful-eyed,  miniatured  face,  but  she  pressed 
it  close  to  her  cheek.  "  It  would  have  happened 
some  day,  since  it  did  happen,  so  it  is  just  as  well 
it  happened  to-night  as  any  time."  She  was  be- 
ginning to  be  philosophically  cheerful,  when  the 
long,  wailing,  eerie  howl  of  a  hungry  coyote  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  night  and  shattered  every  bit  of 
her  courage. 

She  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  chair 


432       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

and  sobbed  and  cried  aloud  in  her  agony  of  fear 
until  the  day  dawned. 

When  the  first  flickering  light  of  the  sun  came 
creeping  into  the  dusty  room,  she  grew  calm,  and 
was  heartily  ashamed  of  her  terror  of  the  night. 

"  Joan  Worthington,  you  are  nothing  but  a  cow- 
ard, and  you  have  always  professed  to  be  very  brave. 
I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  she  said,  firmly.  "  You 
know  Rodney  will  come  for  you  to-day.  Won't  it 
be  lovely  to  have  to  tell  him  how  sniveling  you 
were  all  night.  I  am  ashamed  of  you,  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  you."  Her  eyes  flashed,  and  a  little 
color  found  its  way  to  the  pale  cheeks,  as  she  grew 
more  courageous  in  her  self-abasement.  Neverthe- 
less, her  eyes  filled  with  tears  the  instant  she  ceased 
talking;  it  was  as  if  the  sound  of  her  voice  gave 
her  courage.  She  began  again.  "  You  know  Rod- 
ney will  come  for  you  to-day.  You  must  not  let 
him  find  you  weak- jointed,  blubbering  like  a  baby. 
I  have  no  patience  with  you.  Get  down  on  your 
knees  and  pray,  Joan  Worthington;  if  you  ever 
needed  the  Lord,  you  need  Him  now." 

She  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed, 
with  never  a  thought  of  microbes,  and  the  prayer 
she  prayed  was  truly  characteristic. 

When  she  arose  from  her  knees,  she  felt  calmed, 
recharged  with  hope. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       433 

Noon  found  her  still  hopeful,  listening  for  the 
sound  of  Rodney's  voice.  But  the  noon  hour  passed 
and  she  was  still  alone.  Lengthening  shadows 
across  the  floor  heralded  the  rapid  coming  of  the 
night. 

Suddenly  she  thought  of  Job.  She  opened  the 
door  of  the  little  stove,  and  her  eyes  brightened  with 
fanatic  intensity  as  they  fell  upon  the  heap  of  ashes 
within. 

With  a  small  stick  she  found  on  the  floor  near 
her,  she  scooped  the  ashes  out  on  the  floor  and  scat- 
tered them  about  until  she  had  a  circle  large  enough 
for  her  to  sit  in  with  her  feet  drawn  up  under  her 
Turk  fashion. 

"  I'll  imagine  I'm  Job,"  she  addressed  the  chair. 
"  It  will  make  it  easier  to  stay  until  Rodney  comes," 
her  voice  broke,  but  she  heroically  smiled  through 
the  tears  that  misted  her  eyes. 

"  I  haven't  any  boils,"  she  said,  cheerfully.  She 
smiled  bravely,  determined  to  enjoy  the  game.  "  So 
I  have  no  need  of  a  potsherd  to  scrape  myself  withal. 
That  is  fortunate,  for  I  am  sure  there  is  no  potsherd 
here.  I  wonder  what  a  potsherd  is?  "  she  reflected, 
as  she  made  herself  comfortable,  her  back  against 
the  stove.  Suddenly  she  remembered  that  there 
was  no  mention  of  a  stove  to  support  Job's  back. 

"  Sit    up    straight,"    she    commanded    herself, 


434       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

sternly.  She  frowned,  for  the  thought  of  the  pots- 
herd still  lingered,  disturbing  her  idea  of  the  com- 
pleteness of  things.  Like  a  flash  she  remembered 
the  stick  she  had  spread  her  ashes  with. 

"  I'll  imagine  you  are  the  potsherd."  She  picked 
the  stick  up  and  eyed  it  tentatively.  "  I  can  imagine 
it  very  easily  because  I  do  not  know  what  a  real 
potsherd  is  like.  Now,  I'll  scrape  myself  withal  and 
open  my  mouth  and  speak  as  did  Job.  How  ex- 
tremely fortunate  it  is  that  I  am  conversant  with 
Job." 

She  began  at  the  beginning  of  Job,  and  skimmed 
lightly  through  it,  her  voice  vibrating  with  her  in- 
terest in  the  play.  She  impersonated  Job,  Eliphaz, 
Bildad,  and  Zophar  each  in  his  turn,  her  voice 
changing  with  the  shifting  of  the  characters.  She 
was  lost  in  her  own  dramatization  of  the  sacred 
epic,  and  was  unconscious  of  the  sand-storm  sweep- 
ing over  the  desert  world.  The  play  went  on  until 
the  room  was  filled  with  ghostly  shadows,  and  still 
she  held  herself  rigid,  still  was  she  lost  in  the  play, 
but  her  voice  was  tired  and  shaky  while  she  im- 
personated Elihu,  but  when  she  came  to  Job  speak- 
ing with  the  Lord,  her  voice  rang  out,  pregnant  with 
the  majesty  of  the  words  she  spoke. 

She  had  not  eaten  any  of  the  food  the  Major  left 
her.  She  scorned  to  even  touch  it,  and  the  pangs 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       435 

of  healthful  hunger  shot  through  her.  She  wel- 
comed them.  Job  had  fasted,  so  would  she  fast. 

"  So  Job  died,  being  old  and  full  of  days,"  she 
ended  the  play,  with  a  little  regretful  sigh.  The 
room  was  dark  now,  and  her  courage  began  to  ebb 
away  as  the  shadows  deepened. 

She  straightened  her  tired  little  shoulders  with  an 
impatient  shrug.  "  You  are  not  old  and  full  of 
days,"  she  said,  sternly.  "  Just  remember  that  Job's 
afflictions  did  not  last  always,  neither  will  yours. 
And  '  the  Lord  blessed  the  latter  end  of  Job  more 
than  his  beginning,'  "  she  whispered,  softly.  "  So 
will  he  bless  me."  In  the  thought  of  how  she  could 
be  more  blessed  than  she  had  been  since  she  came 
to  Rodney  out  of  the  storm,  she  forgot  the  fear  night 
had  brought  with  it.  Gradually  she  leaned  farther 
back  until  finally  she  rested  against  the  stove  and  so 
fell  asleep. 

When  Mona  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the 
chloroform  that  day,  the  doctor  hurried  with  her  to 
Rodney. 

The  doctor  had  listened  to  the  advice  of  the  old 
minister.  There  must  be  some  system  in  the  search 
made  for  Joan.  The  old  minister  counseled  waiting 
until  Mona  awakened  before  making  a  move;  he 
knew  Mona  would  be  invaluable  in  the  search. 


436       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Chawa  and  the  Major  were  both  much  in  evidence 
in  the  little  village  that  morning.  As  long  as  they 
were  there,  the  men  felt  that  the  child  was  safe. 
They  believed  the  Major  and  Chawa  had  kidnapped 
Joan,  because  Rodney  asserted  he  was  sure  of  it. 
Of  Chawa's  love  for  Joan,  Rodney  told  no  one. 
Every  one  in  the  village  knew  the  Major  hated  both 
Joan  and  Rodney,  and  it  seemed  natural  to  them 
he  should  use  Chawa  to  aid  him  in  his  nefarious 
plans. 

The  slowness  of  the  doctor,  Dad,  and  Welch 
rasped  on  Rodney's  nerves.  He  wanted  them  to  go 
post-haste  in  their  search  of  the  child,  and  when 
the  doctor  and  Mona  entered  his  room  he  was  almost 
beside  himself. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  demanded,  raising  himself 
on  his  elbow  and  glaring  at  Mona. 

Mona's  eyes  were  somber  with  pain. 

"  I  know  not,"  she  returned,  in  her  soft,  musical 
voice. 

"  Bah !  "  Rodney  flung  at  her.  "  Once  an  Indian 
always  an  Indian.  Fool  that  I  have  been  to  allow 
Joan  with  you  so  much.  Tell  me  quick,  where  is 
she?" 

The  pained  light  in  Mona's  eyes  deepened. 

"  Rodney,  you  are  beside  yourself.  You  are  say- 
ing things  you  will  regret  later  on,"  the  doctor 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       437 

said,  quietly,  his  heart  throbbing  with  pity  for 
Mona. 

"  Shut  up,"  Rodney  growled.  All  the  savage  in 
him  rasped  in  his  voice.  He  felt  like  some  chained 
thing,  bound  down  as  he  was  by  his  broken  limb. 

The  doctor's  voice  somewhat  sobered  him.  He 
fell  back  on  his  pillow  and  flung  his  arm  across  his 
face,  while  hot  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Poor  old  chap,"  the  doctor  said,  gently,  laying 
his  hand  on  Rodney's  arm. 

Rodney  flung  the  hand  off  impatiently,  and  again 
raised  himself  upon  his  elbow,  facing  Mona  with 
an  angry  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  "  he  thundered. 

"  My  love  for  my  friend,  Joan,  is  as  the  waters 
of  the  sea,  unfathomable,"  she  returned,  softly,  her 
head  regally  erect.  "  I  promised  her  my  eternal 
friendship  under  the  shade  of  the  twin  palms  where 
gathers  the  dust  blown  by  the  four  winds.  I  swore 
that  friendship  by  the  God  of  my  white  father,  by 
the  Great  Spirits  of  my  mother's  race.  The  love 
of  Mona,  the  half-breed,  for  the  child  Joan  is  eter- 
nal. I  love  her,  I  would  have  saved  her  this  if  I 
could;  I  warned  you.  I  thought  she  would  stay 
home  last  night,"  her  voice  quivered,  she  had  taken 
Joan's  declaration  of  affection  as  a  promise.  She 
knew  her  little  friend  would  not  have  broken  a 


438       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

promise,  yet  it  hurt  her  because  she  had  disregarded 
the  binding  power  of  the  implied  promise.  She 
turned  toward  the  window  and  stretched  her  arms 
out  in  a  sweeping  movement,  taking  in  the  low, 
shifting  sand  hills,  the  mountain  ridges,  and  the 
stretches  of  sand  lying  between. 

"  Somewhere  out  there,  Mona  will  find  her 
friend." 

She  turned  back  to  Rodney.  "  I,  Mona,  swear  by 
the  God  of  your  people  I  will  bring  her  back  to 
you.  I  will  give  my  life  for  her  if  need  be,  but  if  I 
bring  her  not  back  myself,  through  me  she  shall 
come  back  to  you."  Her  eyes  had  in  them  the  look 
of  some  priestess  of  ancient  days. 

"  Come  here,  Mona,"  Rodney  said,  boyishly,  his 
eyes  misty.  "  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,"  he  added, 
humbly. 

Mona  came,  treading  softly,  like  a  stately  god- 
dess, her  eyes  glowing  with  a  soft,  sweet  light. 

"  Forgive  me,"  Rodney  said,  entreatingly.  His 
voice  was  peculiarly  sweet  and  wistful  now. 

Into  Mona's  eyes  came  a  look  that  dazzled  him, 
so  full  of  love  and  a  worship  that  was  something 
infinitely  greater  than  love.  The  look  passed 
swiftly  and  her  eyes  were  grave,  steady,  in- 
scrutable. 

"  I  would  forgive  you  anything,"  she  said,  softly, 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       439 

so  softly  that  only  Rodney  heard  her.  "  I  go  now 
to  seek  my  friend." 

"  You  are  a  trump,  yes,  an  angel,"  Rodney  called 
after  her. 

"  Forgive  me,  old  man,"  he  held  out  his  hand 
to  the  doctor.  "  I  know  I  acted  like  a  cad,  but  I've 
been  half  wild  ever  since  I've  been  tied  down 
here." 

"  I  know,  old  chap,"  the  doctor  returned,  pressing 
the  hand  he  held.  "You  are  certainly  pardoned. 
Mona  and  I  will  go  now.  The  villains  forgot  the 
burros,  thank  God,  so  we  are  not  forced  to  go 
afoot." 

When  they  were  gone,  Rodney  turned  his  face 
to  the  wall,  groaning,  "  O  God !  God !  If  I  could 
only  go,  too."  He  struck  the  wall  with  his  knuckles 
until  they  were  raw. 

"  O  my  God !  My  God !  Save  her,  save  her,"  he 
pleaded  over  and  over.  "  I  love  her  with  every  fiber 
in  me.  My  mind,  my  heart,  my  very  soul  stirs 
with  love  for  her,  as  my  violin  vibrates  under  the 
touch  of  my  fingers. 

"  O  God !  God !  I  have  always  believed  you  sent 
her  to  me  that  night.  I  have  always  thought  you 
intended  her  to  be  my  life's  companion  in  the  high- 
est sense  of  the  word  in  a  life  of  perfect  love — love 
purified,  intensified,  spiritualized.  O  my  Father, 


440       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

do  not  let  her  go  from  me  in  this  horrible  manner. 
If  she  is  not  to  be  mine,  let  it  be  death  that  sep- 
arates us,  not  this  terrible  thing  I  fear.  Oh,  that 
I  had  never  brought  her  here.  If  I  had  only  come 
alone,  but  I  loved  her  then;  loved  as  I  did  not  then 
realize  I  could  love  any  living  creature.  Child  that 
she  was  I  loved  her  as  a  man  loves  the  spirit  of 
his  mate.  O  God!  God!  I  love  her,  love  her." 
He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed  with 
grief  and  fear  until  the  doctor  coming  in,  just  be- 
fore the  little  band  of  searchers  started,  mercifully 
put  him  to  sleep  with  a  soothing  injection. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  village,  with  a  cry  of  sullen 
fury  a  sweep  of  wind  enveloped  the  searchers  in  a 
pale,  gray  pall  of  sand.  They  forced  their  way  on 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more,  while  the  sand 
beat  at  their  faces  with  impish  fury. 

"  We'll  have  to  go  back,  boys,"  the  old  minister 
said  at  last,  his  voice  hoarse  and  quivering.  "  We 
cannot  go  on  in  this.  We  cannot  see  our  hands 
before  us,  how  can  we  find  our  child?  We  must 
wait  until  the  storm  ceases,  then  start  again." 

Like  the  fierce  leaping  of  the  waves  of  a  storm- 
swept  sea  the  sand  under  them  leaped  and  eddied, 
flinging  itself  upon  them,  stinging  them  with  its 
sharp  impact,  almost  suffocating  them  with  its 
density. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       441 

Over  the  swirling  tide  of  sand  they  made  their 
way  back  to  the  hall,  silent,  worried.  Not  until  they 
reached  the  hall  did  they  notice  Mona  was  not  with 
them. 

For  hours  the  storm  raged  and  the  wind  tore  in 
fury  at  the  roof  of  the  Hall  of  Hope  and  rattled 
the  windows  in  fiendish  glee. 

Through  it  all  Graham  walked  the  floor,  racked 
with  fear  for  Mona. 

In  little  huddled  groups  the  men  talked  together. 
All  were  somber,  even  Gray  making  no  effort  to 
bring  cheer  to  them  while  the  storm  moved  ma- 
jestically over  the  desert  earth. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  storm  the  sun  glimmered 
through  the  flying  sand,  turning  it  red  as  blood. 

Graham  walked  with  unsteady  feet  now — walked 
as  a  man  walks  under  a  heavy  load. 

"  Come  sit  down,  Graham,"  Gray  said  at  last, 
laying  his  thin  hand  on  Graham's  shoulder. 

Graham  obeyed  him,  noticing  as  he  did  so 
Gray's  breath  was  coming  painfully  short  and  fast 
and  his  eyes  were  glitteringly  bright  with  a  fixed 
look  in  them. 

"  You  had  better  lie  down,  old  chap.  By  Jove, 
but  you  are  about  all  in,"  Graham  said,  as  he  flung 
himself  in  a  great  armchair  facing  the  window. 
The  sand  was  beating  against  the  window  in  its  last 


442       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

fling  of  rage,  and  to  Graham  the  world  outside  in 
its  storm-swept  majesty  was  something  terrible  to 
look  upon.  Mona  was  out  in  the  storm  and  his 
heart  was  sick  within  him.  He  looked  up  at  Gray. 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  sick,  old  chap,"  he  cried. 

Gray  smiled  at  him,  then  his  face  was  suddenly 
distorted  with  pain.  Again  he  smiled  as  the  pained 
look  faded  from  it. 

"  You  are  batty,  Graham,"  he  returned,  with  a 
smile  Graham  never  forgot,  as  he  clutched  at  his 
throat. 

"  Doctor  Worthington,"  Graham  called,  sharply. 

"  That's  right,  ball  a  man  out  when  he  is  about 
all  in,"  Gray  said,  with  a  laugh  that  was  almost  a 
cry  of  pain. 

He  staggered,  but  by  a  supreme  effort  recovered 
himself — a  smile  played  about  his  pain-drawn  lips. 

"  Clear  out,  you  rubes,"  he  said,  gaspingly,  as  a 
little  group  closed  in  about  him.  "  This — is — my — 
funeral." 

Again  came  the  pain  that  distorted  the  face  over 
which  the  gray  pallor  of  death  was  already  surging. 

Suddenly  he  raised  both  hands.  For  one  long 
minute  he  looked  straight  up  into  the  face  of  God. 
Then  he  fell. 

"  I'm  going  fast,  boys,"  he  rallied,  with  an  effort. 
His  lips  jerked  in  a  vain  attempt  to  smile.  "  But, 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS      443 

smile — boys — smile.  Don't — look — so — solemn — 
the  joke's — on — me."  He  smiled  now,  a  glorious 
smile  of  joy,  a  smile  that  was  never  forgotten  by 
those  who  saw  it. 

When  the  doctor  reached  him  he  was  dead. 

"  I  always  said  he  would  die  joking,"  the  doctor 
said,  huskily,  as  he  raised  the  limp  form  tenderly 
in  his  arms. 

At  the  door  he  met  Martha  Welch. 

Martha  gave  a  cry  when  she  looked  into  Gray's 
face.  The  doctor  silenced  her  with  a  sharp,  "  There 
are  things  worse  than  death,  Martha." 

Martha  caught  her  breath  sharply.  His  words 
recalled  Joan  alone  somewhere  at  the  mercy  of  a 
savage  and  a  villain.  She  led  the  way  to  Gray's 
tent  silently.  Not  until  after  the  doctor  had  gone 
did  she  allow  herself  to  grieve  over  the  boy  she  had 
loved  best  of  all  the  brave  fellows  about  her. 

When  the  sand-storm  had  passed  the  entire  desert 
world  seemed  to  have  been  clarified,  purified,  as  if 
God  himself  had  been  in  the  heart  of  the  tempest. 

Once  more  the  doctor,  Dad,  and  Welch  started  on 
the  quest  for  Joan.  They  were  headed  toward  the 
lone  cabin  on  the  crest  of  Lone  Pine  Ridge.  There 
Mona,  reading  her  brother  aright,  had  thought  they 
would  find  Joan. 

It  was  dusk  now,  and  the  habitually  solemn  face 


444       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

of  Welch  was  no  more  sorrowful  than  were  the 
faces  of  the  other  two  men  as  they  urged  their 
slow,  plodding  burros  on  over  the  sandy  stretches, 
glistening  now  in  placid  content. 

Swirling  and  stinging  had  been  the  same  sand 
when  Mona  slipped  silently  away  from  the  three 
men  when  they  turned  back  to  the  village  because 
of  its  baffling  intensity. 

"  There  is  need  for  great  haste,"  she  whispered, 
as  she  bent  her  body  to  the  fury  of  the  storm. 

No  one  knew  so  well  as  Mona  the  haste  that  was 
indeed  needed.  Mona  had  gone  to  Chawa  after  she 
left  Rodney.  She  had  pleaded  with  him  with  all 
the  intensity  of  her  passionate  nature,  but  he  had 
met  her  entreaties  with  exultant,  triumphant  taunts. 

"  She  shall  never  be  yours,"  Mona  had  cried  at 
last. 

"So!"  Chawa  flung  at  her.  "We  shall  see." 
He  sprang  toward  Mona  just  as  the  Major  came 
up  behind  them. 

"  What  now,  you  young  fool  ? "  the  Major 
growled,  taking  Chawa  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Fool  yourself,"  Chawa  hissed,  wrenching  him- 
self free.  A  knife  flashed  in  the  sunlight.  "  I've 
had  enough  of  you  and  your  bossing,"  Chawa 
panted,  crouching  panther-like,  his  lithe  body  trem- 
bling with  rage. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       445 

"  Put  up  your  knife,  Chawa,"  Mona  commanded, 
sharply,  as  the  Major  drew  his  revolver.  "  If  you 
hurt  him,  I'll  kill  you,"  she  said,  turning  on  the 
Major. 

There  was  that  in  her  voice  which  compelled  obe- 
dience. The  Major  lowered  the  weapon.  Chawa 
returned  the  knife  to  his  bosom.  And  so  they  stood 
there  for  one  memorable  instant,  all  of  them 
trembling  with  anger  and  hate. 

"  I  know  where  Joan  is,"  Mona  said  at  last.  "  I 
shall  save  her  from  you  both.  I  shall  give  my  life 
for  hers,  if  need  be,  but  save  her  I  shall,"  and  her 
voice  rang  with  passion.  She  turned  to  Chawa. 
"  Henceforth  you  are  no  brother  of  mine."  She 
whirled  on  the  Major,  hissing,  "  You  should  be 
burned  for  your  part  in  this.  Shame  on  you,  shame 
on  you  for  the  coward's  part  you  have  played !  " 

For  an  instant  she  stood  there  holding  them  both 
by  the  light  in  her  eyes. 

She  turned  at  last.  She  had  gone  but  a  few  steps 
when  the  sounds  of  a  struggle  caused  her  to  turn. 

The  Major  was  prone  on  his  back,  Chawa  was 
just  rising  to  his  feet;  in  his  hands  he  held  the 
Major's  revolver. 

"So,  you  would  shoot,  eh?"  she  heard  Chawa 
say,  then  he  spurned  the  Major  with  his  foot. 

"  I'll  get  even  with  you,"  the  Major  snarled. 


446       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Mona  did  not  linger  longer.  With  the  Major 
and  Chawa  hostile  to  one  another  the  danger  to 
Joan  was  intensified. 

She  shuddered  as  she  urged  her  burro  on  through 
the  storm  of  stinging  sand. 

It  was  a  mad  concerto  played  within  the  desert 
borders  that  day — a  concerto  of  crashing  chords  of 
the  fierce,  the  defiant  and  defensive,  with  plaintive 
running  notes  of  the  sublime  running  through  it. 

"  O  God  of  my  father.  Great  Spirits  of  my 
mother's  people,  I  pray  I  may  reach  my  friend  be- 
fore they  do,"  Mona  prayed  over  and  over,  as  she 
struggled  on  through  the  whipping,  lashing  scourge 
of  sand. 

She  reached  the  crest  of  Lone  Pine  Ridge  half 
an  hour  after  the  last  wild  note  of  the  dirge  of  the 
elements  died  away.  The  lone  cabin  looked  peace- 
ful, friendly  under  the  tender  light  of  the  moon. 
The  song  of  the  night  was  sweet  and  soothing,  and 
Mona's  heart  throbbed  with  joy.  She  must  be  in 
time,  after  all. 

Just  as  she  leaped  from  the  burro  and  started 
toward  the  sagging  door,  Chawa  darted  around  the 
house  from  one  side,  the  Major  from  the  other. 
Almost  before  she  realized  their  presence,  so  sud- 
denly and  silently  had  their  coming  been,  a  shot  rang 
out  and  the  Major  fell  in  his  tracks,  almost  at  her 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       447 

feet.  With  a  cry  she  sprang  toward  Chawa.  As 
if  in  answer  to  her  cry  a  lonely  coyote  gave  a 
mourning,  long-drawn  howl — a  howl  such  as  the 
Indians  claim  they  ever  give  when  a  soul  takes  its 
flight  to  the  land  of  the  great  unknown. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

«  /^\  HAWA !    Chawa !  "  Mona  cried,  her  voice 

Y^    A      tense  with  pain. 

Chawa  laughed,  a  ringing,  mocking, 
triumphant  laugh,  covering  her  with  the  still  smok- 
ing revolver. 

"  I  shall  give  you  a  dose  of  the  same  medicine  I 
gave  the  white  dog  if  you  try  to  stop  me,"  he  cried, 
his  voice  shrill  in  the  intensity  of  his  passion.  He 
laughed  again,  such  a  laugh  as  might  have  escaped 
from  the  great  Fighting  Wolf,  as  he  nodded  lightly 
toward  the  Major,  over  whose  face  the  death 
shadow  was  drawn  in  a  hideous  gray  contortion. 

Mona  shuddered  as  her  eyes  followed  his.  She 
had  disliked  the  Major  in  life,  but  the  Major  in 
death  with  his  distorted  face  upturned  to  the  moon 
was  a  something  to  be  pitied,  even  though  he  de- 
served his  fate. 

"  Oh,  Chawa !  Chawa !  My  brother,  why  did 
you  do  it  ?  "  She  came  close  to  him  now,  and  still 
he  held  the  revolver,  its  cold,  gleaming  barrel 
pointed  straight  at  her  heart.  She  felt  strangely 
unafraid  of  that  gleaming  thing  that  had  felled  the 

448 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       449 

Major,  and  her  voice  grew  sweet  and  tender  as  she 
spoke  again. 

"  Chawa,"  she  said,  softly,  "  I  said  once  to-day 
you  were  no  longer  a  brother  of  mine.  I  was  very 
angry  then,  but  now  I  am  sorry  because  you,  my 
brother,  are  in  danger.  It  is  a  serious  thing  to  kill 
a  man,  Chawa,  my  brother.  You  are  in  grave  dan- 
ger and  the  ties  of  blood  are  strong.  I  will  help 
you  flee  from  this  place,  Chawa,  my  brother.  Come, 
make  haste,  the  men  will  soon  be  here.  They  must 
not  find  you  here  with  that."  She  nodded  at  the 
crumpled  heap. 

Chawa's  eyes  softened.  "  We'll  forget  our  lit- 
tle flare  of  anger  back  there,  then,  eh,"  he  laughed, 
softly.  "  Takes  a  little  excitement  to  make  any 
half-breed  all  Indian.  You  do  well  to  aid  your 
brother,  my  sister.  I  shall  flee  with  the  white 
maiden,  and  when  we  are  settled  in  the  little  valley 
I  have  in  mind,  I  shall  send  for  you,  my  sister.  We 
shall  live  the  life  of  our  mother's  people  together, 
we  and  the  palefaced  maiden,  whose  ways  shall 
soon  be  our  ways. 

"  The  garments,  the  ways  of  the  palefaced  ones 
are  irksome  to  me.  I  would  live  as  lived  our  peo- 
ple, the  race  of  great  fighting  braves  and  working 
squaws;  I  would  live  as  live  the  Indians  where  the 
white  race  have  not  disturbed  them. 


450       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I  know  of  a  little  valley  where  the  virgin  soil 
has  never  been  defiled  by  the  treading  of  the  white 
race,  where  the  wild  deer  graze  in  peace  awaiting 
the  song  of  my  arrow.  Ah,  Mona,  my  sister,  we 
shall  live !  "  His  eyes  were  bright  now  with  the 
vision  of  the  life  he  longed  for,  the  revolver  fell 
to  his  side,  for  the  moment  forgotten.  His  way 
was  clear  now.  He  loved  Mona  in  his  wild,  un- 
tamed fashion;  he  would  be  glad  to  share  his  tepee 
with  her. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  my  brother,"  Mona 
said,  sadly. 

The  tone  of  her  voice  awoke  Chawa,  the  light  of 
the  vision  left  his  dark  eyes,  they  were  again  flash- 
ing, savage.  Again  he  covered  Mona  with  the  re- 
volver. 

"  I  do  not  fear  that,"  she  said,  wearily.  "  I  fear 
nothing  for  myself.  Sometimes  I  would  be  glad 
to  go  to  the  great  beyond." 

Chawa  looked  at  her  oddly.  "  You  love  some 
one,  eh?" 

Mona's  eyes  fell. 

Chawa  eyed  her  intently,  searchingly.  "  By 
damn,  I  believe  you  love  that  paleface  guardian  of 
hers,"  he  laughed,  shortly. 

"  Well,  if  you  will  not  help  me,  we  will  drop 
that  subject.  I  shall  take  the  palefaced  maiden. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       451 

You  stay  on.  Perhaps  in  time  some  white-faced 
weakling  will  take  you  for  his  squaw,"  he  sneered. 

Mona  smiled  sadly.  "  Do  not  speak  so,  my 
brother.  I  shall  not  help  you  flee  with  my  white 
friend.  I  shall  prevent  it,  but  you  are  my  brother, 
I  will  help  you  flee  alone  from  the  scene  of  your 
crime.  Go  now  to  the  ancient  cave  above  the  cave 
where  I  go  with  my  white  friend.  I  have  kept  the 
secret  of  that  ancient  cave  all  these  years,  not  even 
to  my  white  friend  have  I  told  of  its  existence,  be- 
cause you  asked  me  not  to.  I  would  die  for  you, 
my  brother,  but  this  you  ask  can  never  be." 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  Chawa's  voice  rang 
out  passionately.  "  I,  Chawa,  love  the  palefaced 
maiden.  I  am  consumed  with  love  for  her.  My 
veins  throb  with  the  swift  leaping  of  my  blood  at 
the  very  thought  of  her.  I  have  loved  her  ever 
since  I  first  saw  her,  as  I  now  know  you  have  loved 
the  man.  I  will  have  her  or  die.  I  cannot  live 
longer  without  her.  I  am  mad  with  love  of  her. 
My  blood  is  afire  with  my  longing  for  her.  I  swear, 
by  the  Sun  and  Moon  gods,  I,  Chawa,  will  have  her 
or  die." 

"  Chawa,  my  brother,  speak  not  so,"  Mona 
pleaded.  "  I  tell  you,  my  brother,  I  indeed  love  the 
paleface  man,  but  he  loves  her,  my  friend.  They 
love  each  other,  Chawa.  They  are  of  the  same 


452       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

race,  the  same  pure  blood,  blood  of  the  white  race 
flows  in  their  veins.  Joan  could  never  be  happy  with 
you,  my  brother.  With  you  she  would  wither  and 
fade  away  like  a  delicate  flower.  The  fierce  in- 
tensity of  your  love  would  consume  her  as  the  fire 
consumes  the  sacrificial  offering.  You  must  not 
commit  this  sin,  oh,  my  brother !  " 

Chawa  laughed  exultantly.  "  Plead  no  more, 
my  sister,"  he  said,  shortly. 

"You  will  go  and  leave  her?"  Mona's  voice 
was  eager  now. 

"  No."     Chawa's  voice  rang  out  passionately. 

"  I  shall  take  the  pale  faced  maiden.  She  may 
wither,  as  you  say,  but  I,  Chawa,  will  have  first 
held  her  in  my  arms.  She  shall  be  mine.  There  is 
no  escape  from  the  passion  of  Chawa.  I  will  kill 
her  first,  then  myself,  if  ever  you  lead  the  white 
men  to  my  hiding-place.  I'll  take  her  now  to  the 
ancient  cave.  You  shall  bring  us  food  each  day 
until  I  can  flee  with  her  to  the  valley  of  which  I 
have  already  spoken.  Remember,  before  she  shall 
be  taken  from  me,  I  will  kill  her." 

"  Oh,  oh,  you  will  not  kill  her,  Chawa.  Promise 
me,  my  brother,  you  will  never  take  her  life!  " 

Chawa  laughed  triumphantly,  laughed  as  a  devil 
might  laugh  in  an  ungodly  hour  of  triumph. 

"  I  think  you  will  help  me  now,"  he  exulted. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       453 

"  You  would  rather  she  were  the  mate  of  Chawa 
than  like  that,"  he  spurned  the  Major's  body  with 
his  foot." 

Mona's  eyes  darkened  with  pain.  "  I  shall  never 
help  you,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  I  would  rather  see 
her  like  that  than  know  she  was  your  mate. 
Good-by,  Chawa,  my  brother,  if  you  take  my  pale- 
faced  friend,  you  take  her  when  I  am  like  that." 
His  eyes  followed  hers  to  the  Major's  body.  Lithe 
as  a  panther  she  sprang  to  one  side  and  darted 
toward  the  corner  of  the  house.  She  was  confident 
Joan  was  in  the  middle  room  and  knew  if  she  could 
reach  the  window  of  it  she  could  enter  that  way 
and  perhaps  save  her  friend. 

Chawa  snarled,  the  revolver  rang  out  again;  its 
leaden  messenger  went  home.  With  a  cry  Mona 
sank  to  the  ground. 

Chawa  turned  to  enter  the  house,  his  face  dis- 
torted with  savage,  fiendish  joy.  He  was  full  of  the 
blood-lust  now.  Even  the  silver  moon  looked  to 
him  like  a  huge  red  ball  and  the  desert  bathed  in 
its  light  took  on  the  same  fiery  hue.  He  laughed 
aloud  as  he  started  up  the  steps. 

There  were  two  steps,  rotten  with  age,  before 
the  door  of  the  cottage.  Chawa  caught  his  foot 
on  the  second  step  and  lost  his  balance. 

In  striving  to  regain  his  balance,  the  hand  hold- 


454       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

ing  the  still  smoking  revolver  crashed  against  the 
door.  Another  shot  rang  out,  and  Chawa  fell  in 
a  heap  on  the  lower  step. 

The  ring  of  the  three  shots  reached  the  three 
men  urging  their  slow  plodding  beasts  up  the  trail 
to  the  lonely  cottage. 

"My  God!"  the  doctor  cried.  "What  can  it 
mean?  Oh,  Joan!  Joan!  My  own  little  Joan. 
Why,  oh  why  was  I  such  a  coward?  Why 
did  I  keep  silent-  so  long?  O  God,  God,  do 
not  let  her  be  taken  from  me  before  she  knows 
I  am  her  father,  before  she  knows  I  did  not  inten- 
tionally desert  her  mother." 

"  God  grant  it,"  the  old  minister  said,  softly,  his 
eyes  upturned  to  the  serene  sky.  His  fine,  patri- 
archal face,  outlined  by  the  light  of  the  moon, 
looked  almost  unearthly  pale  and  hallowed.  To  him 
the  firing  of  the  three  shots  had  but  one  meaning. 
Chawa  had  killed  Mona,  then  after  that  interval 
had  killed  Joan,  then  himself.  He  would  have  al- 
most rejoiced  if  the  three  shots  had  rung  out  in 
quick  succession.  The  intermission  between  the 
first  and  last  shots  brought  the  intense,  pained  look 
into  his  eyes.  His  shoulders  were  stooped  a  little 
and  he  felt  the  springing  tears,  as  he  turned  from 
the  serene  sky  to  the  suffering  man  beside  him 
— the  child's  father. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       455 

The  shots  awakened  Joan.  She  struggled  to  her 
feet  with  a  moaning  cry.  "  Oh,  Rodney !  Rodney ! 
Rodney!"  It  was  for  Rodney  she  feared  now. 
And  the  fear  grew  in  leaps  and  bounds  while  she 
tugged  at  the  chain  in  a  vain  struggle  to  free  her- 
self. "Rodney!  Rodney!"  she  moaned  over  and 
over. 

With  a  cry  of  anguish,  at  the  sound  of  the  last 
shot,  she  flung  herself  on  her  knees  by  the  bed  and 
began  to  pray. 

The  prayer  quieted  her  fears.  She  seemed  to 
have  a  whispered  promise  of  Rodney's  safety.  At 
last  she  sat  down  in  her  circle  of  ashes  again.  The 
ashes  recalled  her  impersonification  of  Job.  She 
smiled  whimsically,  "  I  can  truly  say  with  Job,  '  Oh, 
that  this  day  had  never  been  for  me.' ' 

It  was  a  grewsome  sight  that  met  the  gaze  of 
the  three  men  there  on  Lone  Pine  Ridge  under  the 
calm  light  of  the  moon.  Grewsome  yet  strangely 
comforting.  There  was  hope  for  the  child. 

"  Dead,"  the  doctor  said,  tersely,  as  he  straight- 
ened up  from  his  brief  examination  of  the  Major. 
"  Dead,"  he  repeated,  after  his  survey  of  Chawa. 

"  Here  is  Mona,"  Dad  cried,  bending  over  her 
where  she  lay  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  pine. 

"  Living,  thank  God,"  the  doctor  said,  fervently, 


456       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

as  he  raised  his  head  from  Mona's  chest.  "  It's 
only  a  flesh  wound,  a  clean  miss  of  the  shoulder 
bone,"  he  announced,  as  he  further  examined  the 
unconscious  girl. 

"  Thank  God,"  Dad  said,  reverently,  lifting  his 
wide  hat  from  his  white  head. 

His  face  was  stern  set,  yet  his  eyes  were  soft  as 
he  looked  at  the  upturned  face  of  the  girl,  as  they 
gently  carried  her  out  of  the  shadows  into  the  soft 
light.  The  mystic  light  of  the  moon  touched  the 
beautifully  chiseled  face,  turning  it  into  a  Madonna- 
like,  ethereal  beauty. 

These  keen  men  of  the  desert  read  clearly  the 
story  told  there  in  all  its  grim  setting.  They  needed 
no  one  to  tell  them  Chawa  had  killed  the  Major, 
that  Mona  had  talked  with  Chawa,  implored  him 
to  spare  her  friend — needed  no  one  to  tell  them 
of  Chawa's  refusal  and  that  he  had  shot  Mona 
as  she  tried  to  escape  around  the  corner  of  the 
house. 

That  Chawa's  death  was  accidental  they  also 
knew.  Chawa's  fine,  dark  face  was  set  in  its  lines 
of  savage  triumph — Death  had  come  too  swiftly  for 
the  lines  to  change.  His  staring  eyes  glowed  with  a 
baleful,  exultant,  passionate  light. 

Welch  dragged  the  dead  around  to  the  shed  room 
at  the  back  of  the  cottage,  while  the  doctor  worked 


JOAN  OF.  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       457 

over  Mona  and  the  old  minister  went  within  to 
Joan. 

"  There,"  Welch  grunted,  as  he  threw  a  piece  of 
canvas  over  the  two  bodies,  "  I'm  not  a  cussing 
man  generally,  but  I'll  be  damned  if  you  haven't  got 
your  just  dues — both  of  you — and — and  if  I  find 
any  harm  has  come  to  Joan — I'll  forget  I  am  a  white 
man  and  drag  you  out  for  the  coyotes  to  feed  on." 

He  reached  the  doctor,  still  working  over  Mona, 
just  as  the  old  minister  came  out  of  the  cottage. 

He  caught  his  breath  sharply.  "God!  If  any 
harm  has  come  to  the  child." 

"  She  is  safe,  boys,"  the  old  minister  said,  rais- 
ing his  hand  reverently,  as  if  in  some  sublime  bene- 
diction. 

"  I  found  her  sitting  in  a  circle  of  ashes.  She 
has  been  impersonating  Job  to  keep  her  courage 
up,"  he  added,  with  just  a  trace  of  amusement  in 
his  silver  voice. 

"By  gad,  I— I,"  Welch  began,  then  broke  off 
and  sobbed  like  a  baby.  "  I — I  don't  care,"  he 
blubbered.  "  I  think  it's  enough  to — to  cry  over — 
I'm  so  dad-blasted  happy — I  could  almost  forgive 
those  dead  cusses." 

"  She  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  hours."  The  doc- 
tor raised  up  from  Mona.  "  And,  thank  God, 
thank  God,  my  baby  is  safe." 


458       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

Mona  opened  her  eyes.  "  No !  No !  Chawa,  you 
would  not  kill  her." 

"  My  God ! "  The  doctor  flung  his  arm  across 
his  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  some  horrible  vision. 

"  I  didn't  tell  her  you  were  out  here,  boys,"  the 
old  minister  said,  softly.  "  I  told  her  I  would  come 
back  for  her  when  I  found  a  key  to  the  chain — 
the " 

"  Say  damned  skunks,  if  you  want  to,  Dad.  I've 
cussed  like  a  trooper  and  I  feel  better,"  Welch  said, 
eagerly. 

Dad  smiled  at  Welch.  "  I  am  too  full  of  grati- 
tude to  my  heavenly  Father  to  be  profane,  but 
I'm  not  reprimanding  you,"  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eyes  at  sight  of  Welch's  drooping 
face. 

"  We'll  do  the  sulphur  part  for  you,  Dad,"  the 
doctor  said,  as  he  gave  Mona  another  strengthening 
injection,  "but  did  they  chain  her — my  baby?"  he 
demanded,  his  face  working. 

"  Yes,"  the  old  man  said,  shortly,  "  but  don't  go 
in  there,"  he  pleaded,  as  the  doctor  started  toward 
the  door. 

"  She  is  overwrought,  a  very  little  more  excite- 
ment would  cause  a  nervous  sick  spell.  I  know,  I 
know,"  he  said,  sadly.  "  I  know.  Human  nature 
will  stand  only  so  much  excitement.  It  would  be 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       459 

almost  impossible  for  you  to  see  her  now  and  not 
reveal  your  relationship  to  her." 

"  You  are  right,"  the  doctor's  voice  was  husky. 
"  I  kept  silent  for  myself,  now  I  shall  keep  silent 
for  her  until  she  recovers  from  the  effects  of  all 
she  must  have  gone  through.  Oh,  my  baby!  My 
baby!" 

"  I  shudder  to  think  what  would  have  happened 
to  her,  high-strung  as  she  is,  alone  here  in  such  a 
place  had  it  not  been  for  her  sublime  faith  in  the 
love  of  God,"  the  old  minister  returned,  softly. 

"  I  got  it,"  Welch  broke  in  triumphantly,  his 
somber  face  distorted  by  a  huge  grin.  He  held  up 
a  peculiar-shaped  key.  "  I've  seen  'em  before.  Was 
sheriff  in  Texas  once — seen  a  heap  of  these  kind  of 
keys  there.  If  the  old  boy  hadn't  a  prison  record 
to  his  credit  I  am  a  knock-kneed  donkey." 

"Ah,  the  key  to  the  chain's  band,"  Dad  said, 
quietly. 

"  Yes,  the  key  to  the  ankle-bracelet,  to  give  it 
its  correct  name,  Dad." 

The  old  man  sighed  and  passed  his  hand  wearily 
over  his  forehead,  brushing  back  the  silver  strands 
of  hair. 

"  We  must  get  Mona  under  shelter  as  soon  as 
possible,"  the  doctor  broke  in,  eagerly.  "Now  I 
know  my  baby  is  safe  I'll  take  Mona  down  to  the 


460       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

village  and  leave  you  to  bring  Joan,"  he  turned 
to  the  old  minister. 

"Jumping  wild  cats,  where  do  I  come  in  at?" 
Welch  demanded,  wagging  his  head  mournfully. 

"  It  will  take  you  and  I  both  to  take  Mona  down 
very  carefully,"  the  doctor  returned.  "  We  will 
ride  our  burros  side  by  side  and  hold  her  in  our 
arms.  We  can  make  better  time  that  way  than  if  we 
made  a  litter  and  walked  beside  her." 

"  Good !  "  approved  Dad.  "  Now,  I'll  go  back  to 
our  child.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to  tell  her  that 
Rodney  was  injured  by  King  Solomon  this  morning. 
She  feared  so  for  him  when  she  heard  those  shots, 
poor  little  girl." 

"  Fortunate  little  girl,  with  the  love  of  a  man 
like  White  to  shield  her  all  his  life,"  returned  the 
doctor. 

When  the  doctor  and  Welch  reached  the  village 
in  the  dawn's  first  glow,  they  met  Prudence  near 
Rodney's. 

"It  is  not  Joan,"  the  doctor  sang  out,  as  Pru- 
dence ran  white- faced  to  meet  them. 

"  She  saved  her — saved  little  Joan.  She  is  white 
through  and  through,"  Welch  said,  solemnly,  as 
he  and  the  doctor  started  to  carry  Mona  into  the 
house. 

:<  You  are  a  good  man,  Samuel."    Prudence  laid 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       461 

her  hand  timidly  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  the  first 
suggestion  of  a  caress  she  had  ever  given  him. 

"  We  brought  her  here,  because  the  doctor 
thought  it  would  be  best,"  Welch  said,  boyishly. 
"  You  are  a  dear  woman,  Prudence." 

"  To  be  sure,  bring  her  on  in,  Samuel.  If  she 
was  any  place  else  Joan  would  have  her  spirit  in 
two  places  and  in  no  time  would  wear  her  body  out 
running  back  and  forth  between  her  and  Rodney." 

The  doctor  smiled  at  the  utter  ignoring  of  him 
and  his  authority,  as  Prudence  directed  Welch 
where  to  carry  the  still  unconscious  girl. 

In  a  few  minutes  Lois  was  there  with  Mona, 
and  by  the  time  Mona  recovered  her  consciousness 
the  village  was  ringing  with  the  sounds  of  early 
morning  activity. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  Lois  asked,  bending  over 
Mona. 

"  Tell  my  uncle,"  Mona  said,  weakly.  "  Chawa 
— did — not  kill  himself.  I  was  not  unconscious 
when  he  fell.  It  was — an  accident — but  I  am  glad 
my  friend  is  saved."  She  closed  her  eyes  to  shut 
her  sorrow  away  from  Lois,  but  Lois  had  seen  the 
mist  of  tears  in  the  great  dark  eyes  and  knew 
that  while  Mona  rejoiced  because  her  friend  was 
saved,  her  heart  was  very  heavy  over  her  brother's 
death. 


462       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

"  I'll  tell  him,  dear."  Lois  stooped  and  kissed 
the  pale  cheeks. 

"  I  sleep  now,"  Mona  returned,  gravely. 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  Lois  said,  softly,  as  she  left  the 
room.  "  How  glad  I  am  she  is  to  recover  if  all 
goes  well,  and  it  will  go  well  with  him  back  of 
it !  "  She  blushed  and  her  eyes  glowed  with  pride 
of  her  doctor. 

With  the  fullness  of  the  dawn  came  the  old  min- 
ister and  Joan. 

The  doctor  met  them  at  the  cottage  door,  telling 
Joan  gravely  and  briefly  that  Mona  was  inside,  in- 
jured, but  sleeping  quietly  and  must  not  be  dis- 
turbed. His  lips  trembled  and  quivered  with  his 
desire  to  tell  her  she  belonged  to  him — she  was  his 
child.  His  arms  ached  with  his  desire  to  hold  her 
as  a  father,  but  he  squared  his  shoulders  in  quick 
determination.  He  would  wait — the  child  had 
enough  to  bear.  He  knew  how  she  would  grieve 
when  she  learned  that  Gray  was  dead.  Some  one 
must  tell  her,  too,  that  the  Major  and  Chawa  were 
dead.  His  eyes  followed  her  into  the  house  long- 
ingly, but  he  turned  resolutely  toward  the  Major's 
hotel  to  send  Cuby  after  his  master's  body. 

At  "  The  Sign  of  the  Rainbow,"  the  doctor  found 
Cuby  lying  in  a  pool  of  his  own  blood.  The  negro 
was  dying. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       463 

"  De  Maja  done  finish  Cuby,"  the  negro  moaned, 
as  the  doctor  bent  over  him. 

"Why?"  the  doctor  demanded,  after  he  had 
lifted  the  dying  man  to  a  more  comfortable  position 
on  the  couch,  and  had  forced  some  brandy  down  the 
closing  throat. 

"  De  Maja  kill  you  if  I  tole  you,"  Cuby  said, 
thickly. 

"  The  Major  is  dead." 

An  unholy  light  broke  through  the  film  gather- 
ing over  the  negro's  eyes.  With  an  effort  he  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow.  "  I'll — I'll,"  he  began,  and 
fell  back  dead. 

As  Joan  crossed  the  threshold  into  the  living- 
room  she  was  suddenly  gathered  up  in  the  arms  of 
the  new  Prudence. 

"  Oh,  oh,  it  is  good  to  be  home  and  have  you 
kiss  me !  "  Joan  murmured,  snuggling  close  to  Pru- 
dence as  she  had  always  secretly  longed  to. 

"  I  think  my  latter  end  is  going  to  be  better  than 
the  beginning — just  like  Job's  was,"  she  whispered, 
ecstatically. 

Prudence  smiled  at  her,  tenderly.  "  My  own 
little  Joan,"  she  whispered,  then  half  sobbed,  "  Go 
in  to  Rodney  and — and  cry  all  you  want  to  on  his 
shirt  front." 

"  Thank  you,  Aunt  Prudence,"   returned  Joan, 


464       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

suddenly  grave.  She  longed  to  see  Rodney,  longed 
to  have  his  loving  arms  about  her,  but  the  child  was 
a  woman  now,  she  had  crossed  that  invisible  bound- 
ary line  between  childhood  and  womanhood  up  there 
on  Lone  Pine  Ridge  when  the  three  shots  rang  out 
on  the  still  air,  and  much  as  she  longed  to  be  en- 
folded in  Rodney's  arms,  it  was  hard  to  tell  him  of 
Chawa's  hot  kisses — and  tell  him  she  must.  With 
her  hand  on  the  doorknob,  she  breathed  a  prayer  for 
courage. 

"  Hurry !  Hurry !  Joan !  Joan !  "  Rodney's 
voice  came  to  her,  and  in  an  instant  she  had  flung  the 
door  open;  a  second  and  she  was  on  her  knees  be- 
side him  sobbing  out  the  whole  story. 

Rodney  drew  her  to  him,  and  as  of  old  she 
nestled  in  the  hollow  of  his  arms,  while  he  told  her 
of  his  ride  on  Solomon,  of  Mona — of  Gray,  the 
Major,  and  Chawa. 

When  he  had  finished,  Rodney's  shirt  front  was 
indeed  wet  with  tears. 

"  Aunt  Prudence  said  I  could  weep  on  you  all 
I  wanted  to-day,"  Joan  said  at  last,  with  a  little 
catch  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  but  if  you  have  finished  you  might  have 
something  to  eat,"  Prudence  said,  in  a  character- 
istic way.  Neither  of  them  had  heard  her  enter  the 
room. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       465 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Prudence,  I  am  so  hungry,"  Joan 
cried.  "  I  feel  like  I  could  never  get  enough  of 
your  good  cooking." 

"  Humph,"  Prudence  grunted,  happily,  her  eyes 
on  Rodney's  shirt  front.  "  I  see  you  did  a  good 
job,"  she  commented,  dryly. 

Joan  looked  from  Prudence  to  Rodney.  "  Oh,  I 
am  so  happy,"  she  cried,  her  face  suddenly  pressed 
against  Rodney's.  "  I  hope  it  is  not  wrong  to  be  so 
happy  when  there  is  so  much  sorrow  about  us,  but 
I  can't  help  being  happy  because  I  am  with  you." 

"  I  thought  you  were  hungry,"  Prudence  inter- 
rupted. 

"  I  am,"  Joan  cried,  springing  to  her  feet.  At 
the  door  she  turned  and  looked  again  at  Rodney, 
with  such  a  depth  of  love  and  promise  in  her  eyes 
that  after  she  was  gone,  he  flung  his  arm  across 
his  eyes  as  if  to  hold  there  the  vision  of  her  eyes 
aglow  with  that  promise. 

The  next  day  was  a  day  given  largely  over  to  the 
dead  at  the  Springs.  The  doctor  had  wired  to  Joe 
Phillips  in  Los  Angeles.  In  answer  came  Joe  Phil- 
lips, the  Major's  only  relative  and  his  heir.  The 
nephew,  in  fulfillment  of  a  promise  made  his  uncle 
some  years  before,  started  south  on  the  early  morn- 
ing train  to  lay  his  uncle's  body  in  the  old  family 
burying  ground. 


466       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

In  mid-afternoon  Gray  was  tenderly,  reverently 
laid  to  rest  beside  Arth  under  the  same  great  pepper 
tree. 

In  the  early  twilight  Cuby  was  buried  on  a  low 
hillside  near  the  village.  And  that  night,  shrill  and 
loud  with  a  primitive  frenzy  that  seemed  to  pierce 
the  sky  and  reach  to  the  very  edge  of  the  desert, 
resounding  against  the  mountains,  re-echoing  up  the 
canyons  went  the  sound  of  the  voices  of  the  In- 
dians wailing  for  Chawa.  The  cry  of  a  primitive 
people,  mourning  in  a  traditional  manner  for  their 
dead — a  cry  that  was  an  echo  of  the  voice  of  primal 
man  raised  against  the  heavy  hand  of  Fate. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  rosy  fingers  of  dawn  moved  lightly  over 
the  throbbing  desert  world  in  a  divine  pre- 
lude of  a  golden  September  day,  filling  the 
ambient  air  with  a  translucent  melody  that  no  hu- 
man mind  could  interpret.  It  was  as  though  the 
very  hand  of  God  played  the  dawn's  salutation  to 
the  desert  world. 

Its  caressing  influence  folded  itself  about  the 
man  and  girl  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  cottage, 
waving  their  handkerchiefs  at  the  man  and  woman 
in  the  tonneau  of  the  great  touring  car  speeding 
toward  the  station,  across  the  stretch  of  gleaming 
sand  fanned  by  the  perfume-laden  zephyrs  of  the 
dawn. 

A  silence  dense  and  throbbing  fell  upon  the  two, 
on  the  steps,  as  the  car  vanished  in  the  distance. 

Suddenly  the  girl  turned  toward  the  man,  and 
the  eyes  that  met  his  were  not  the  eyes  of  a  child, 
but  unutterably  sweet,  divinely  womanly  were  they. 

"  Well,  little  girl,"  the  man  broke  the  silence. 
"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  Welch  are  making  good 

time  toward  the  station.     They  are  sure  to  make 

467 


468       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

the  East-bound  Flyer.  What  a  splendid  innovation 
the  motor  is !  " 

Still  the  girl  looked  at  him,  saying  nothing. 

"  Great  wedding  they  had  last  night,  wasn't  it  ?  " 
The  man  mopped  his  damp  forehead  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. "  Aunt  Prue  made  a  very  charming 
bride,  didn't  she?" 

No  answer. 

The  morning  was  cool  but  the  man  seemed  to  be 
suffocating.  His  face  was  pale  and  his  mouth  set 
in  grim  lines. 

"Well,  what  are  you  thinking?"  he  demanded 
at  last,  nervously.  If  those  tender,  womanly  eyes 
looked  so  steadily  into  his  much  longer  he  would 
forget  his  self-imposed  promise  to  wait  until  she 
was  twenty  before  he  told  her  all  that  was  in  his 
heart  to  tell  her  now. 

"Joan!  Joan!  Talk!  Talk !"  he  cried  at  last, 
turning  his  eyes  from  her  to  the  eastern  sky.  The 
prelude  of  the  dawn  was  passing  into  the  anthem 
of  the  day.  From  the  vast  stretches  of  the  desert 
he  gained  strength  to  again  meet  those  glowing 
eyes. 

When  he  turned  back  to  her,  Joan's  eyes  fell. 
"  It  seems  like  the  end  of  everything,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  catch  in  her  voice.  "  Nothing  will  ever 
be  the  same  again.  Oh,  Rodney!  Rodney!  I  am 


TlIK    STRAINS   OF   THE  VIOLIN    FLOATED   OUT   OVER   THK   DESERT,  FILLED 
.   WITH    LOVE   AND   LONGING. — Page  480. 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       469 

glad  Aunt  Prudence  is  happy,  but  how  can  I  leave 
you?  Rodney,  I  am  grateful  for  the  life  that  has 
come  to  me  through  you.  I  should  be  willing  to  do 
anything  you  wish  me  to,  I  would  if  I  believed  you 
really  wished  it,  but  I  believe  the  doc — my  father 
is  the  instigator  of  it.  It  has  been  a  great  trial 
for  me  to  give  my  father  the  love  and  respect  a 
child  should  give  such  a  father,  Rodney.  I  must 
tell  you  this  now,  I  thank  God  every  night  my  little 
mother  was  not  forsaken  as  I  always  thought  she 
had  been.  I  will  never  forget  how  grateful  I  was, 
for  her,  that  day  you  told  me  all  about  it — how 
he  came  to  leave  her,  I  mean.  I  have  forgiven  him, 
Rodney,  but  I  know  she  would  never  have  been 
deserted  had  she  been  your  wife,  for  there  would 
never  have  been  any  secret  about  your  marriage. 
But  we  will  not  talk  about  that,  Rodney.  I  am 
glad  he  is  to  have  dear  Lois.  I  should  be  sorry 
if  he  knew  exactly  how  I  feel,  and  with  Lois  he 
will  never  notice  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  feel  as 
a  daughter  should  toward  him.  Oh,  Rodney! 
Rodney!  How  grateful  I  am  you  were  not  killed 
over  me  that  dreadful  day!  I  have  always  believed 
the  Lord  let  your  leg  be  broken  to  save  you  from 
being  killed  by  one  of  those  dreadful  men.  Rod- 
ney, tell  me  again  that  you  have  forgiven  me  for 
being  the  cause  of  your  great  worry.  I  should  not 


470      JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

have  left  the  house  that  night  without  telling 
you." 

She  turned  to  him,  longing  to  have  him  take  her 
in  his  arms.  He  seemed  strangely  reluctant  about 
even  kissing  her  lately.  She  smiled  a  little  womanly 
smile  of  understanding,  as  he  started  toward  her, 
then  abruptly  turned  away  again.  But  oh,  if  he 
would  only  open  his  arms  to  her,  hold  her  close 
and  never  send  her  away  from  him,  no  matter  how 
much  the  doctor  and  Dad  wanted  her  to  go  away  to 
school  with  Mona! 

"  When  I  come  home  to  stay,  after  I  have  fin- 
ished at  Mills,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  live  with 
my  father  and  Lois."  Her  voice  was  even,  but  if 
he  could  have  seen  her  eyes  they  were  dancing  with 
a  teasing  light. 

"  I  hope  not,  little  girl.  You  certainly  shall  not 
if  I  have  anything  to  say  about  it."  Tenderly  sweet 
was  the  man's  voice. 

"  This  is  just  the  end  of  one  chapter  of  our  lives, 
dear,"  Rodney  smiled  at  her — that  peculiarly  sweet 
smile  that  seemed  to  belong  to  him  alone. 

She  moved  as  if  to  go  to  him.  He  turned  and 
looked  across  the  desert  again. 

The  light  died  out  of  her  eyes;  they  were  misted 
with  tears  now. 

"  You  and  Mona  will  be  happy  at  Mills,"   he 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       471 

said,  gently.  "  You  know,  you  once  said  it  was  the 
dream  of  your  life  to  go  to  college." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  did,  but  I  was  a  child  then,"  Joan 
broke  out,  impatiently. 

"And  what  are  you  now,  pray?"  Rodney  de- 
manded, a  teasing  light  in  his  eyes,  as  he  faced  her. 

Joan  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  turned  away. 

"  When  Mona  and  I  come  back,  we  will  keep  old- 
maid  hall  together;  how  will  that  suit  you?"  she 
said,  with  studied  indifference,  her  eyes  now  fol- 
lowing the  well-worn  trail  leading  up  to  the  Cave 
of  Rest. 

"  Not  if  I  know  myself,  you  will  not."  Some- 
thing in  his  voice  thrilled  her. 

"  What  will  you  have  to  say  about  it,  Sir  Rod- 
ney ?  "  She  whirled  on  him,  eyes  aglow.  "  You  are 
sending  me  away  like  a  naughty  child,  when  I 
begged  and  begged  to  stay  here  and  help  cheer  up  the 
poor  sick  boys.  You  know  yourself  I  could  learn 
right  here  all  the  Latin,  and — well,  everything  I'll 
learn  at  Mills,  just  as  well  as  leaving  this  beautiful 
place  four  years.  Each  term  there  will  be  so  many 
things  happen  I'll  never  be  able  to  catch  up  with  them 
during  vacations.  Think  of  all  that  has  happened 
this  summer !  '  The  Sign  of  the  Rainbow '  turned 
into  a  hospital  for  the  boys  too  sick  to  go  to  the 
hall  for  their  meals.  Just  think  how  Don  will  miss 


472       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

me!  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  send  me  away,  Rod- 
ney White  ?  Why  won't  you  let  me  stay  here  ?  " 
Now  she  pleaded,  her  voice  low  and  tremulous. 

Rodney  started  toward  her,  an  unmistakable  light 
in  his  eyes,  then  he  resolutely  turned  away. 

Joan's  eyes  were  radiant.  Given  time  enough 
she  might  win  her  way,  even  now.  "  What  if  I  had 
missed  that  funny  dicker  between  Mr.  Phillips  and 
my  father !  "  she  said,  whimsically,  recalling  the 
day  her  father  had  purchased  "  The  Sign  of  the 
Rainbow  "  from  the  Major's  nephew. 

"  Oh,  Rodney,  I  want  to  stay  here."  Her  eyes 
were  somber  again,  yet  aglow  with  a  hope  that  even 
at  this  late  hour  she  could  break  down  the  wall 
of  self-renunciation  Rodney  had  erected  between 
them.  She  would  go  happily  then,  if  she  could 
only  leave  him  the  promise  of  her  love  to  cheer  him 
while  she  was  away  from  him. 

She  looked  out  over  the  desert  again  as  if  she 
could  see  the  future  of  the  hope  of  the  con- 
sumptives— as  if  it  were  given  her  to  see  a  vision 
of  the  Rainbow  Springs  of  the  future  when  to  reach 
the  village  one  passed  through  a  land  of  rippling 
grain  where  cacti  and  greasewood  now  grew  in 
stunted  reluctance — as  if  she  could  see  the  time 
when  Rodney  and  Norman  Worthington  carried 
on  the  great  work  together — as  if  she  could  hear 


JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       473 

the  voice  of  the  future  head  of  the  nation  saying 
with  pride:  "  It  is  the  garden  of  Eden  for  all  those 
suffering  from  the  great  white  plague." 

"  I'll — I'll  bid  you  good-by  here,"  Joan  said  at 
last,  her  lips  quivering,  a  rosy  flush  staining  her 
face.  Her  future  was  close- folded,  hidden  still,  yet 
she  knew  the  man  holding  her  eyes  now  with  his 
would  some  day  break  the  silence  of  the  next  four 
years  of  earnest  work — knew  that  a  sudden  shaft 
of  Love's  dazzling  light  would  be  flung  athwart 
life's  book  and  all  the  pages  of  the  future  would 
be  illuminated  as  she  and  the  man  she  loved — the 
man  who  loved  her  with  such  a  perfect  love — would 
turn  the  pages  together,  one  by  one,  with  the  rhythm 
and  music  of  their  love. 

Joan  suddenly  tingled  all  over  with  the  romance 
of  it  all.  After  all  she  could  and  would  wait  pa- 
tiently. It  would  be  so  thrilling  to  think  of  that 
hour  when  he  would  tell  her  all  his  eyes  told  her 
now.  Her  eyes  glowed  iridescently.  She  tilted  her 
head  to  one  side  and  stood  listening  as  if  she  caught 
the  measure  of  some  wonderful  strain  of  music 
played  only  to  her. 

"  It  is  time  to  come  now,"  said  the  old  minister, 
softly.  A  tender  smile  played  about  his  mouth. 

So  unconscious  of  his  approach  had  they  been 
that  Joan  gave  a  little  involuntary  cry  of  surprise 


474      JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Her  eyes  grew  misty 
again. 

"  Four  years  seem  like  a  lifetime  to  you  now, 
little  girl,"  he  said,  gently,  reading  her  aright. 
"  But  they  will  pass  before  you  realize  it  and  you 
will,  for  them,  be  all  the  better  fitted  for  the  life 
which  will  be  yours  here  where  the  spirit  of  God 
is  so  divinely  with  us." 

"  Oh,  Dad !  Dad !  I  love  it  so  here,"  she  cried. 
"  I  always  wanted  to  go  to  college  as  Rodney  just 
reminded  me.  It  was  the  dream  of  my  life  when 
I  was  a  poor  little  hand-me-around  orphan  and  I 
want  a  better  education  now,  Dad,  dear.  I  do 
indeed  want  it,  but  these  last  three  years  have  been 
so  like  heaven  to  me  it's  hard  to  think  about  leaving 
you  and — and  Rodney.  I  am  grateful  because  I  am 
going  to  Mills,  Dad,  but  I  shall  miss  you  all  so! 
Oh,  what  would  I  do  if  Mona  were  not  going  with 
me  ?  "  her  voice  broke. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  the  old  minister  said,  gravely. 
"  I  think  I  understand  exactly  how  you  feel,  dear. 
But  you  must  not  cry,  Mona  is  going  with  you, 
and  we  want  our  girls  to  be  the  pride  of  Mills,  don't 
we,  Rodney  ?  " 

Rodney  nodded.  He  could  not  trust  his  voice 
to  speak. 

Dad  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  Joan's  head.     His 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       475 

face  was  transfigured,  illumined  with  an  inner 
glory.  "  The  future  is  all  golden  for  you,  dear." 
There  was  the  light  of  prophecy  in  his  eyes  now. 
"  And  when  you  and  Mona  come  back  to  us  to 
stay,  we  will  have  such  a  garden  as  was  mine  in 
those  old  golden  days  of  mine  in  the  sunny  south- 
land. Our  flowers  will  be  the  lace  upon  the  desert's 
altar  cloth.  We  will  have  an  abundance  of  clove 
pinks,  lassie,  pinks  that  will  gladden  the  hearts  of 
the  lads  who  come  to  us — the  girls,  too — for  the 
girls  will  be  coming  soon  to  the  doctor's  wonderful 
Hall  of  Hope.  Aye,  the  lassies  will  come,  for  the 
disease  that  will  be  stamped  out  here  fastens  itself 
upon  them,  too,"  he  sighed.  He  had  almost  for- 
gotten the  presence  of  the  man  and  the  girl. 

"  There  comes  Mona,"  Joan  cried,  suddenly. 

The  old  minister  turned  to  them  again  with  a 
low  musical  laugh.  "  She  and  Graham  were  dawn- 
gazing  together  when  I  started  over  here.  I  heard 
Graham  say :  '  Well,  by  Jove,  you  simply  must  write 
to  a  chap,  you  know.'  I  believe  she  will  do  it,  too," 
he  added.  Mona  had  been  very  gentle  and  kind  to 
Graham  ever  since  she  recovered  from  her  wound. 
He  had  been  so  wonderfully  kind  to  her  while  she 
was  convalescing  after  that  terrible  night  on  Lone 
Pine  Ridge.  He  was  such  a  frank,  manly  fellow 
and  so  earnestly  in  love  with  her,  she  could  not 


476       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

but  pity  him — and  pity  is  a  dangerous  ally  of  the 
little  love  god,  but  Mona  was  serenely  unconscious 
of  this,  as  she  gave  Graham  a  laughing  half  promise 
to  write  him. 

"  I  will  go  on  with  Mona  to  the  hall,"  Dad  said, 
noting  with  a  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  kind  eyes 
the  shadows  that  had  unconsciously  fallen  on  the 
faces  of  the  man  and  maid  when  he  joined  them. 

"  And  you'll  play  the  *  Ave  Maria '  as  we  start 
off.  I  can  stand  it  better  if  you  do — and — and,  so 
can  you,"  said  the  woman-wise  Joan,  as  she  looked 
into  Rodney's  love-lit  eyes,  as  they  drew  near  the 
Hall  of  Hope. 

From  within  came  shouts  of  joy — the  boys  were 
most  certainly  enjoying  themselves. 

"  Yes,  I'll  play  the  '  Ave  Maria/  little  girl,  but  I 
wanted  to  go  to  the  train  with  you." 

"  I — I  couldn't  stand  that,"  Joan's  voice  was 
shaky.  "  It  will  take  all  the  thrill  of  the  dash  in 
the  automobile  to  keep  me  from  being  a  baby  as  it 
is.  If  I  had  to  face  parting  from  my  beloved 
guardian  at  the  train — I  could  never  stand  it — never ! 
Never!  I'll  have  to  pray — pray  as  I  never  prayed 
before  to  stand  it,  anyway.  I'll  have  to  pray  every 
minute,  Rodney  White,"  her  voice  broke.  She  had 
intended  to  be  very  grave — had  even  intended  to 
say  something  to  tease  him  when  she  said  "  my 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       477 

beloved  guardian,"  he  hated  to  be  called  guardian 
so  badly,  but,  she  thought,  with  a  quivering  of 
her  lips,  "  there  is  nothing  humorous  about  any- 
thing." 

"  What  a  dear  child  it  is,"  Rodney  smiled — then 
added,  softly,  "  And  remember,  Joan — my  own  lit- 
tle Joan — I  love  you " 

"  Oh!  "  She  turned  eager  eyes  to  him — "  Well, 
as  any  proper  guardian  should  love  his  ward,"  he 
finished,  lamely,  and  drew  her  into  the  hall  of  mirth. 

At  the  end  of  the  hall  on  a  low  platform  under 
a  wedding  bell  of  white  carnations  stood  the  doctor 
and  Lois,  eyes  alight,  faces  aglow  with  love's  prom- 
ise of  the  future. 

Just  in  front  of  them  stood  the  old  minister. 
About  them  in  groups  were  the  boys.  At  one  side 
stood  Martha  with  an  arm  about  Mona.  Joan  has- 
tened to  join  Martha  and  Mona.  She  and  Rodney 
both  were  serenely  unconscious  of  the  exchange  of 
smiles  that  greeted  their  entrance  to  the  hall. 

Slowly,  impressively,  the  old  minister  read  the 
beautiful  marriage  service  while  the  voice  of  Rod- 
ney's violin  rang  out  in  a  dainty,  delicate  obligate 
— a  melody  as  delicate  in  structure  as  was  the  in- 
strument itself. 

To  all  but  Joan,  the  music  was  simply  an  exquisite 


478       JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

melody,  bright  and  airy  as  shimmering  moonlight, 
dainty  as  the  song  of  a  rippling  brook  gliding 
through  the  green  aisles  of  some  magic  forest — a 
sweet  promise  of  life  itself,  but  to  Joan  it  was 
more  than  that — it  was  all  that,  too.  To  her  it  was 
a-thrill  with  the  song  of  the  first  man  for  the  first 
woman.  It  sounded  through  her  consciousness, 
calling,  calling,  calling  to  the  depths  of  her  soul, 
and  Rodney,  looking  past  that  other  man  and 
woman,  read  love's  answer  in  her  eyes — *ead  and 
was  satisfied. 

Just  as  the  doctor  and  his  wife  stepped  into  the 
purring  machine  waiting  for  them  in  front  of  the 
hall,  a  very  beautiful  and  symbolic  thing  happened. 
On  the  ragged  spur  of  a  giant  mountain  peak,  sud- 
denly appeared  the  head  of  an  Indian  chief — out- 
lined as  it  was  against  the  sun-bright  sky,  the  grim 
lips  were  curved  into  a  kindly  smile. 

"  Oh !  Oh,  Rodney,  look !  "  Joan  cried  from  her 
place  on  the  middle  seat  of  the  huge  car. 

Rodney  tucked  his  violin  under  his  arm  and  came 
close  to  the  side  of  the  pulsating  machine  throbbing 
to  be  off  across  the  desert  expanse,  quivering  like 
some  live  thing  poised  ready  for  flight. 

With  his  hands  holding  hers,  they  watched  the 
head  of  the  ancient  chief  fade  away,  its  place  taken 


JOAN  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS       479 

almost  instantly  by  the  ancient  city  with  its  thou- 
sand spires  piercing  the  sky. 

The  doctor  broke  the  tense  silence  which  held 
them  all  spellbound.  Even  the  group  of  boys,  wait- 
ing to  fling  a  shower  of  rice  upon  the  doctor  and 
Lois  the  instant  the  car  started,  were  silent. 

"  We'll  return  next  week,  old  man,"  the  doctor 
said,  smiling  at  Rodney.  "  We  shall  get  our  girls 
settled  at  Mills,  spend  a  day  or  so  at  Santa  Barbara 
on  our  way  down  the  coast,  then  home,  eh,  dear  ?  " 
he  turned  to  Lois. 

She  raised  glowing  eyes  to  him,  "  Then  home," 
she  returned,  softly. 

"  By  Jove,  you  know  I'll  expect  a  letter  next 
week  and — and  I'll  get  a  fever  up  if  it  doesn't  come 
on  time,  a  regular  hummer  of  a  fever,  and  you 
know  how  cross  a  fever  makes  the  doctor — so  you'd 
better  write,  Mona,  dear,"  the  voice  of  Graham,  un- 
consciously raised  in  the  intensity  of  his  feelings, 
rang  out  clear  and  distinct.  He  had  been  carrying 
on  a  low-voiced  conversation  with  Mona  ever  since 
the  mirage  of  the  ancient  city  had  faded  away. 

Above  the  laugh  that  followed,  the  doctor's  voice 
rang  clear,  "  You'll  do,  Graham — I  promise  you 
Mona  shall  not  be  allowed  to  cause  your  temperature 
to  rise."  And  then  the  big  car  shot  suddenly  for- 
ward. The  silver  voice  of  the  old  minister  followed 


480       JO  A  N  OF  RAINBOW  SPRINGS 

it  in  a  sublime  benediction,  while  the  strains  of  the 
violin  floated  out  over  the  desert,  filled  with  love 
and  longing,  a-quiver  with  passion  and  pain,  throb- 
bing with  an  ecstasy  of  renunciation,  thrilling  with 
the  promise  of  the  future,  as  Rodney's  fingers  swept 
caressingly  over  the  responsive  strings  shaping  the 
melody  Joan  loved  best — the  exquisite  "  Ave 
Maria." 


THE    END 


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